Scarazial
by HeCallsMeHisChild
Summary: Resilience Saga, story 5. Scarazial: scar-ah-zee-al. To be torn apart. Separation. To split off into various factions. To find oneself facing someone, who was once an ally, as an enemy.
1. The Bells Toll for Thee

White. It seemed the wrong color. Black was more appropriate, or some ugly, dark color. Not white.

Gloria stood, motionless at the giant oak doors, soon to swing open and reveal the huge arena before her. The ritual for Irken bonding, inherently simple, had already been met. Earth governments, once they grasped the precariousness of the situation, demanded their own customs fulfilled as well, with a wedding. And since it was a wedding that would ensure the survival of the planet, a massive arena had been constructed, to hold dignitaries from every land. Cameras from every angle would broadcast the ceremony to any not fortunate enough to be among the world's most influential and elite.

She would walk past a host of people she did not know, in a half-mile procession across the floor of the arena, down an aisle that was nearly a hiking trail. At the end of the aisle, she would be declared the wife of the Irken leader, Almighty Tallest Red, by the authorities of Earth.

She'd awoken in a soft, white bed, held down by all too familiar straps. She had begun screaming, hoping to wake up in the comfort of her own bed. All around her, Irken heads scrambled, trying to calm her, inject her, feed her something in a panic. A harsh word from the doorway scattered them, and long, armored arms reached into her vision to loosen the straps.

Immediately, she'd fled to the farthest corner of the room, curled in on herself, cowering. The silence stretched out, interrupted only by her gasps of air.

Nothing happened. No hands were laid on her, no claws raking her skin, no sudden darkness swallowing her sight. She shifted her head slightly, so she could see around the arm she'd curved over her head.

The drones in the room stood where they were, in awkward anxiety. Red stood by the medical bed she had vacated. He hadn't moved an inch. He merely looked at her, his face unreadable. On eye contact with her, he had finally spoken.

"Sempadinum has been formed." He spoke with authority. "Earth is now under the protection of Irk. We are currently in discussions with your," he shifted, "Multiple governments." He sounded perplexed at this, but moved on. "Your new station as co-ruler affords you all the protection Irk can offer… and no one can lay hand on you without your express permission."

It was the way he emphasized "no one" that gave her pause, calmed her trembling slightly. Then he had turned, and left the room.

She had not seen him again since then. All her needs had been attended to by drones, and occasionally a slightly higher ranking Irken would inform her of the ongoing discussions between the governments. The news was often delivered with confusion at how even small details took so much time and discussion, and at the sheer number of governments involved in the proceedings. She had laughed some at this, but the laugh rang hollow, and turned to tears.

The drones had swarmed her, asking if she was alright, was she hurt, and could they get her anything? She had screamed at them to leave. They had never so much as looked at her when she had begged for help before, she didn't want them now.

As they left, a shadow in the corner of the room moved, and slid over to her side, forming up under her arm. Gloria didn't say anything, just picked Gaz up into her arms and held her tightly. She'd known Gaz would come in time. After a few moments, Gaz had slipped away from Gloria, back to the corner, where she took up her post as a shadow for the wardrobe, watching.

The governments bickered and dithered for a few days, until Red had lost patience. He had, he reminded them, the ability to wipe all of them out, so they had better come to an agreement and soon so that they could settle down for a peaceable intergalactic treaty. This had decided them rather quickly, and two weeks from the appearance of Irken ships in the sky, the wedding was held.

And so, she stood there, dressed in white, her purple hair braided and hanging down the back. Her eyes stared at the door blankly, as she heard the music cue their opening. She would endure the processional. She would endure the ceremony. And when he kissed her, as custom declared, she would not faint.

Fainting was for the fearful. And when one was stone, there was no need for fear.

…

**Note: **Shorter than usual chapter, but wanted to get this up and going. Here goes people, hold onto your hats! Also, story art done by the lovely Kazehana23!


	2. The Road to Hell

**Note: **I love you all… from Asks and Reviews, I just love you. You're making this project so much fun. Sorry, randomness. Back to writing.

…

It was difficult for Zim to imagine a more uncomfortable situation than the one he was currently witnessing.

Weddings in general made little to no sense to him. He had managed to wrap his mind around the concept of two humans joining together to create more humans, and that this was generally a desirable thing. It was desirable for the continuation of the species, but somehow it was also something sought after for the mutual support of two humans struggling together through life, who no longer wished to do so alone.

That much made sense. What didn't make sense was a ceremony. Was there really a need for such a proceeding? Why didn't they just find a dwelling together once they'd decided on their union, and that was it? But then, there were many things about humans that he still didn't understand.

But this wedding in particular was most uncomfortable, for many reasons. He watched, silently, as the huge wooden doors at the end of the arena swung open. His superior eyes focused on the form barely visible in the open space of the doorway. He and Dib had been afforded front row seats, as Zim's status had risen from refugee to Irken Cultural Advisor to Earth, and Dib's had risen alongside. Still diplomat for Zim's outbursts of frustration.

Dib had not spoken to him since he had conveyed their mother to the Massive. Zim sensed an underlying resentment and anger from him, but hadn't had time to address it. He'd been inundated with frantic requests from the government to tell them everything he knew, whatever knowledge could keep them from getting wiped out.

And there she was, taking her first steps down the walk. The reason why Earth was not getting wiped out.

He turned his head slightly, glancing up at Tallest Red. Only a few feet away, standing at attention on the platform in front of him, his Tallest had returned to wearing his armor. His face was expressionless, his eyes trained only on the small figure at the beginning of the pathway.

Zim knew, Red would never harm Gloria again. He couldn't, he'd changed too much. But humans had lengthy memories, morflars even longer, and both held grudges and pain close, save in rare cases. He could explain to Dib and Gaz, and even Gloria why Gloria would find no safer place in the universe at this point than by Red's side as much as he wanted, but they wouldn't hear him.

So he kept quiet, and watched the proceedings, a sinking feeling in his spooch, wishing he knew how to fix everything.

…

_Stupid Zim._

Dib's face had been fixed in a near-perpetual scowl since the news had come back to him that his Mom had successfully made it to the Massive, and saved the world.

_STUPID Zim._

It was completely irrational. He knew that. He knew it hadn't been Zim's decision to go back, nobody had forced his Mom. But still, she couldn't have meant it! And Zim just up and took her, like she didn't mean anything, like she was just a means to an end. And even if that end WAS saving everyone else, he knew just one family had been on Zim's mind.

_STUPID ZIM._

He wondered bitterly if their Mom even meant anything at all to Zim, or if she was just some abstract concept to the alien, who had already cemented another human in her place. Some small thought continued reminding him how unfair and irrational he was being, but it was drowned out rather quickly by the stream of furious obscenities that raged in his mind whenever he caught sight of Tallest Red out of the corner of his eye.

It was some small expression of his disgust, that he refused to look directly at the Irken leader. He hoped, with every fiber of his being, that the monster knew it too.

…..

Nobody saw Gaz, and that's exactly how she wanted it.

Her seat at the wedding had never been claimed, so it had been hastily given to a last-minute diplomat on the waiting list. She didn't mind, she'd never had need of it. She had never intended to sit in the front row. She was going to make a statement, and she was going to make sure Red knew exactly where she stood on the subject.

Nobody saw Gaz as Gloria stood at the doors. Someone may have, if they were looking hard enough, noticed that Gloria's shadow flickered briefly as it swelled, as if absorbing another shadow. Within seconds, however, it settled down again to mirror Gloria's form, and as the doors opened and she began to move down the aisle, so did her shadow. Like any other shadow.

It wasn't right. It shouldn't be happening. Everything had spun out of control, ever since that stupid Zim had made his stupid deals and hadn't just left like she'd told him.

But it went back farther, didn't it?

She should have insisted, driving Zim away through fear and intimidation and not caving to his demands.

She should have killed Red on the spot, not just eaten him. If she'd killed him, none of this would be happening.

She should have smelled Irken all over Dib the day their mother disappeared and traced it back to its source, but she was in too much shock.

And it all led to today, shadowing her mother as she walked the aisle. The shadow shuddered with a suppressed, bitter laugh at a thought.

_The road to hell is paved with good intentions. And she's the one that has to walk it._

…..

_Do not feel._

Not a twitch. Not a stray blink. Not one facial spasm. Nothing can show.

They were watching. Not just the humans, his empire. This ceremony was being broadcast to all of Irk through the Massive's transmission system, and on through the PAKs of all off-planet Invaders as well. All would know of this union, all would understand its significance.

And if he showed a fraction of what was going on inside his chest, they would know something was wrong. That something was broken in his PAK, and that he needed to be repaired. Reformed into the mold he'd been forced into. His mind broken so his filter could be fixed. And that could not happen.

He watched the form in white walking down the aisle, her flat expression a perfect mirror of his own. What was she feeling? Was it worse than the twisting and churning in his gut, the mix of shame and admiration, anxiety and anticipation?

As the minutes ticked by, and she still remained in the distance, Red began to feel another emotion. It was a more familiar one, slightly burning, and hot. It grew a little as he realized she was meant to walk the entire distance up to him. It burned as he realized the aisle seats were crowded with media-drones, flashing cameras and recording every step of the way, and that the path had been made so long because of the sheer number of "important people" there to watch.

As if this day wasn't difficult enough already. No, he did not need to know what she was thinking. She'd made it perfectly clear the moment he'd unstrapped her from her bed in the med-bay aboard the Massive. She wanted to be as far away from him as possible, and this union was for the sole purpose of saving her planet.

He did not blame her. If anything, he wondered at her. Over the course of his short time as her servant, he had come to realize how much bravery she was capable of. Not the sort of bravery to take up a blaster and charge into battle, but a much different kind. The kind that endures, and heals, and moves forward after terrible things.

That he was the cause of some of those terrible things drove a knife into his spooch. He could almost hear the cries of his own Maneem as he recalled the cries of the human female walking toward him. Gloria, he had to become used to calling her that.

Abruptly, he left his place on the platform. Earth custom be flirked, she shouldn't have to walk the whole way. The crowd murmured, and several officials shifted uneasily. He strode toward her, tempering his anger and matching her even strides, so as to not appear threatening. Her steps slowed, uncertainly, but then picked up again.

His steps were longer, and though she had started first, they met toward the middle. He stood there, patiently waiting as the officiator huffed down the path behind him, and stood there, coat askew from running.

Something caught his eye, and he glanced down behind Gloria. Her shadow stared back at him, red eyes glaring from the silhouetted head. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead, but he kept his face still. Slowly, he dipped his head, silently acknowledging Gaz's presence, and its intended meaning. The eyes vanished, though the shadow stayed, silent and watchful.

He raised his eyes to Gloria's as the officiator rambled off his scripted words. Red responded when prompted, and placed a metal band on Gloria's finger. He noted a band already present there. He decided on asking someone later what the significance of these bands was in the first place, and what it meant that she already had one. Maybe at the same time he told her about the mechanism built into hers. He allowed her to place one on his claw as well.

"By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Red had been told of this, and shown footage of how it was done. He was able to mimic it, but he understood some serious significance lay in the pressing of lips together that he did not yet understand. Placing the metal band that he did not understand was one thing, but touching her in a way he did not understand… he had already done so, and it had caused terrible things.

So, he leaned down carefully, closing the height gap between them, and pressed his lips to her forehead.

It was not Earth custom, he had been shown what Earth custom was. But he was Almighty Tallest Red, commander of a thousand Irken fleets. Who was going to stop him?

…..

**Note:** Just a little analysis, I realize this series has shifted its focus much more from Zim to Red and Gloria. It feels a little weird to me, but it also feels right. Usually when I let the story go where it wants to go, with only minor nudging from me, good things happen. So I'm gonna let it evolve in this direction, cause I think there's potential. Zim will still have a major role, but I get the feeling we'll be seeing much more aboard the Massive than down on Earth.


	3. Discussions in the Dark

It was a private lounge on the Massive to which Gloria withdrew after the ceremony. She had heard rumblings of a reception, but those plans had been squelched by Tallest Red, who declared that the strange ceremony had gone on long enough and there was no need to make a further show of it.

While she felt a touch of gratitude that she didn't have to parade longer in front of strangers and cameras, dread also began working its way through her defenses. Now she would have to face him. Talk to him. Discuss the situation, and find out exactly where he stood on it.

She'd asked a passing drone if there was any kind of private room she could relax in, and the drone had nodded vigorously, leading her to a door painted purple. She wouldn't have given the color of the door a second thought, if she hadn't noticed the shift in shade. She knew of Tallest Purple, had heard him on occasion in her captivity. She had even seen him once before her eyes had been gouged out, and she knew the shade he used to be a deeper tone than the one currently covering the door. On a whim, she took a handful of her hair, and placed it against the door.

Perfect match.

Uneasy, she looked for a knob, finding none. "Can you open this please?" She asked.

The drone shifted. "No my Tallest, only you can. The palmlock is coded for your hand." He gestured at the panel beside the door.

She stiffened. "I am not a Tallest." She said tersely.

The drone's eyes widened in panic. "Please accept my apologies!" He pleaded. "It is what Tallest Red instructed us to address you as, until he had the chance to discuss your new title with you later, please don't throw me out the airlock!"

She stared at him. Of course drones would be thrown out the airlock for minor mistakes, why should she have expected any differently? Quietly she responded, "There will be no more throwing anyone out of any airlocks." Turning to the door, she pressed her hand against the panel, entering as the door slid aside. It closed with a click behind her, and she took in her surroundings.

An easel stood in the corner, with a large canvas already propped up on it. A stool had been placed in front of it, and one or two stuffed chairs sat nearby. All along the wall were shelves loaded with all kinds of supplies. She crossed to them, running her hands over the items. Oils, acrylics, watercolors, pastels, charcoal, even gouache. There were brushes of every size and shape. Scissors, rulers, compasses, pencils and erasers. There was a stack of canvases leaning against the near wall, and a pile of sketchbooks.

On the other side of the room, a small rosebush in a pot sat under a sunlamp.

He had already been here.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there, absently stroking the brushes, her mind churning, but she came to herself with a knock at the door.

"It's open." She almost whispered.

After a few moments, the knock repeated itself. She looked up, and noted a matching panel on the inside of the door. Apparently it wasn't open, and only she could open it. For a moment, she considered remaining in this room, and never leaving it.

_Your life is what is keeping Earth intact at the moment._

She lowered her head. She would have to face him eventually. Crossing over to the door, she placed her hand against the panel. The second it accepted her palm print, she sprinted back across the room, behind a chair. She stood behind it, gripping the backing. Placing the chair between her and the door made her feel a tiny bit safer.

What passed through the door and into her room was not a Tallest, and not an Irken, but a common human gardener. With an unruly mop of hair, a tattered backpack, and yellow garden gloves up to his elbows, Scar crossed the room and took a seat in the opposing stuffed chair. He raised his eyes to Gloria, saying nothing as the door clicked shut behind him.

"Why do you look like that?" Left her mouth before she could recall it, her tone sharp.

"Because the last time you were able to make eye contact with me and speak to me, this is how I looked." He answered evenly. "I thought it best to diffuse as much of the difficulty in this situation as possible. Some cannot be avoided. Others can."

Anger curdled her stomach. He was right, and she couldn't stand it. The sight of Scar, even knowing who he was, set her more at ease to speak her mind than the sight of Tallest Red would have.

"What do you want?" She forced her voice to match his own even calm.

"A few things." He replied mildly. "I want to know what you would prefer to be called instead of Tallest, as the drone outside relayed that it is a title you despise. You cannot be called merely Gloria, you are a co-ruler with me, and a title is required."

"My title isn't slave then?" She bit out, "Or specimen?"

His eyes flicked away from her, and she felt a small sense of satisfaction, followed quickly by a surprising regret.

_Why did I say that?_

"No." He replied. "That is not your title, nor will it ever be again."

She considered a moment, settling on a title she could accept easily. "Lady. They can call me Lady Gloria."

He nodded slightly, still staring off to the side now. "I also wish to inform you of your sleeping arrangements. You will be placed in Tallest Purple's old quarters. I have informed the drones to reprogram the sole entrance door to respond to your handprint." He paused. "There is an adjoining door to my quarters, which will also be programmed with the same specifications."

She tensed. "I would prefer that door converted into a wall."

He shook his head. "In case of an emergency, you need to be able to access my quarters."

Her eyes narrowed. "And you have the same access to mine, I suppose."

Again, he shook his head. "That emergency access is currently reserved for you, and you alone." He waited a moment, and when she didn't respond, continued. "Lastly, I wanted to have a discussion with you concerning…" and here, he faltered. "Concerning…" he swallowed. "If… there was ever anything… you wished to know… or ask… or be shown… concerning our previous… situations…" he folded and unfolded his hands. "I… would… answer whatever you may choose to ask."

She knew exactly what she wanted to ask. The first thing she had always wanted to know for sure. She had guessed, but she needed to hear it. "Where are they?" Her stare was unrelenting, burning. "What did you do with them?"

Red's eyes closed, and he lowered his head into yellow-gloved hands. "They're dead." He said quietly. "All used in various experiments. Zim surviving being thrown through a dimensional device was sheer luck, he landed back on Irk earlier in time. Any others thrown through landed in space, or on other planets where they were killed by exposure. The rest were experimented on in our labs."

His detailed description cut deeply, but she knew what he was doing. He was laying to rest any hope she had that more children still lived somewhere.

"Did you oversee these experiments?" Her voice was like ice.

"I watched some." He didn't lift his head. "I directed a couple."

"Did you feel _anything_ for them?"

His hands dropped away from his face, regret weighing his features down. "Nothing." His voice cracked. "I felt nothing for them."

Gloria turned away, clenching her eyes shut. His tone spoke volumes more than he was saying, but she didn't want to hear it. She wasn't ready. "I would like to be alone." She stated.

She heard him rise, sighing. "You have to let me out."

She couldn't get to the palm-lock fast enough, and as soon as he had stepped through she closed the door behind him, sliding down the wall to the ground. She had far too much to think about, and no way of sorting all the thoughts and feelings.

Her gaze wandered over to the easel. Then again…

…..

The corridors of the circus backlot sprawled every whichaway, dim and dingy. The brightly colored big top stood between the small mid-way and the backlot like a shield, hiding the goings-on of all members, from the stage-hand smoking in the shadows of the creature cages, to the ringmaster quietly exiting a battered door.

Said ringmaster idly strode down one of the halls, red cape flowing behind him, red top hat neatly fitting over his red antennae. With green skin, average height, and cold, dull red eyes he wouldn't have stood out much. That is, if not for the red Irken symbols adorning his skin from head to foot. Over his right eye coiled what looked like a red seal of some sort.

His pace was brisk as he tapped his red cane on the ground every so often to startle any stagehands out of his way. Once in his room, he shut the door. It had been a good show that night, he reflected blandly, taking off his hat and sitting down. Seemed most of the Irkens in the crowd were entertained. So many bright, young, happy faces. None the wiser when the grand finale happened, which made it all the easier for him.

_Fools. All of them._ A downright foolish race, with maybe the slightest of exceptions, him included. _But it's not my problem if they are stupid_. In fact, it made things all the more enjoyable for him.

And he liked enjoying things.

Suffering, torture, watching the light leave their eyes, knowing they had been begging for it to stop hours beforehand. But they deserved it, and deep down they should all have known it too. He was only helping them along. After all, what life would they really go back to? In a way they should spend their last moments thanking him, but usually, they were too busy screaming, and that was just fine with him.

The lights in his room flickered, dimming down to a near pitch-black. A chuckle resounded from the corner of his room, followed by a pitched double voice that rang with amusement. "You seem to have had a good evening."

The Irken didn't even flinch at the dimming, but stared down blankly and spoke in a cold monotone. "What do you want?"

A dark figure moved in front of him, a pair of gleaming yellow eyes peering out at him. "Oh come now, no conversation? No chit-chat? And you're usually so cheerful, tsk tsk." The voice mocked him.

The Irken raised his eyes to the figure. "Look. You're here for a reason, tell me why so I can do it."

The yellow eyes roll slightly. "For someone who enjoys drawing things out you're very abrupt." The eyes fixed back on the Irken, all amusement gone. "You've seen the news. The union between Irk and this new planet, Earth."

"I suppose I should care since you are bringing it up?"

"You might say that. I have a rather vested interest in the situation. Now, I know you're incredibly grateful to me already for the great gift I've given you, but I'm anxious that this job go off... smoother, than say, some of your previous jobs have gone off. So I am willing to divert a rather large sum of monies to you, if you follow my instructions very, very carefully."

The Irken raised one antennae, his expression never changing. "Well, you sound serious. You never sound so serious, usually you sound more upbeat. Something's gotten you on edge for you to want me to do a job this clean with a large some of monies."

"You could say that. I need the new co-ruler disposed of, and rather quickly." The eyes flashed slightly. "She is already becoming a great nuisance to me."

The Irken yawned. "She hmm? Ok, details please. What's her name, where's she located, blah blah blah."

"Her name is Gloria. Formerly known as Gloria Membrane. If you must bring her family into it in order to eliminate her, do it. She's located on the Massive, and heavily guarded."

Scoffing, the Irken waved a hand. "The Massive. Hmph. Do you honestly think their little guards and Armada can stop me?" His marks, eyes, and antennae glowed red. "They'll be dust if they get in the way."

The figure paused. "Riddick, my dear boy," The voice drawled the term condescendingly, "She is guarded by a Morflar with a personal vendetta against anyone who tries to harm her."

Riddick's antennae lowered slightly, and his eyes narrowed. "Does it look like I care about a little shadow? Look, I'm just saying I could, that doesn't mean I will. You told me you had instructions I need to follow to the letter, so start reciting the alphabet."

"It's simple. You cannot allow her to see you." The yellow eyes narrowed as well. "Torment her if you must, but she can't see you. Not for half a second. If she so much as lays eyes on your cape, I will kill you myself." The voice changed pitch to a deep, demonic rumble. "Are we perfectly clear?"

Unfazed, Riddick responded, "Fine, whatever."

Returning to a more pleasant pitch, the voice hummed. "Good. I look forward to your work, it never ceases to amuse me." The lights flickered, returning to their normal strength, and the figure was nowhere to be seen.

Riddick shook his head_. Whoever this Gloria is, he seems pretty off put by her, more than he let on._ He rose, donning his hat. He had work to do. Perhaps he would enjoy himself thoroughly with the torture. After all, a human... it was rare to come across those. He wonders if their begging and screaming would be similar to an Irken's.

_ Looks like I shall find out._

…_._

**Note:** Introducing Riddick, and from this point on, anything involving Riddick is in collaboration with CHIKARAfiction, who came up with Riddick.


	4. Sorting Things Out

With the government now begging for information, it wasn't hard convincing them to allow Zim to continue heading the development and invention department of Membrane Inc. Zim was perfectly content with this arrangement, as it allowed him to begin sorting things out.

At least within his own mind.

He still had no idea what to say to Dib, so obviously upset with him. He was sure he'd be feeling the wrath of Gaz sooner or later. He didn't even know how to begin to speak to Gloria now that she was aboard her ship of personalized nightmares, even if she was safe. Tallest Red? Now so busy with sorting out the details of an alliance, there would probably be no time to even discuss Zim's status as Mekrelmar and revoking it.

He focused on the parts in front of him. He continued to build the ship he'd begun, though at a much less frantic pace. Most parts he built out in the main laboratory, with cameras and engineers watching, learning from the process. Some, though, he built in a smaller lab. He would, he promised, explain every part he built, but there were times he needed to build things alone, and use the motion and focus to sort through his thoughts.

Which is why the knock on the door immediately placed him in an irritable mood. "Go away, Zim is busy." He called. The knock came again, and his antennae pressed against his skull. "Not in the mood, go away." Again, the knock.

With a low growl, Zim crossed the room, keying in the code to unlock the door. He yanked it open. "This had better be imp—"

Tunaghost stood there, one hand on her hip, the other holding a battered brown lunchbag.

Zim scowled. "How did you get in here? Nobody but Dib and the employee drones have access to the labs."

"Government pass." She said blandly. "Seems two Irkens each put in a good word for my help in the situation with Tallest Red. Cleared my record, and upped my pay grade."

Sighing, Zim stepped aside to let her in, then returned to his seat at a worktable. "What do you want?"

She set the sack on the worktable. "Della didn't have the clearance to get in. She kicked up a fuss and threatened everyone in arm's reach, but they wouldn't let her in. She sent this with me on my way in. Cheese sandwich, I think she said."

Zim's shoulders loosened some, and he opened the lunch sack gratefully.

"She said whenever there's a lot on your mind you start working and forget to eat." Tunaghost tilted her head. "Lot on your mind?"

Zim pulled out the sandwich and took a bite. "Why are you here?" He asked, ignoring her question.

She shrugged slightly. "Well, I'm not your official questioner, but I'll be going back and forth between the Massive and Earth." At Zim's startled glance, she added, "Tallest Red has asked for occasional sessions to help keep his mind straight. He hasn't had several years to help in that, like you have, and he has immediate need of a clear head at all times now." She sighed. "He really needs a psychiatrist, you know, not a magic expert. But he seems to think this way is better, and nobody's going to argue with the guy who has a thousand cannons aimed at Earth."

"So you're here because…" Zim prodded again.

"Well, if you wanted any messages passed to him, I could get them there." She sat on the edge of a nearby table, kicking her legs. "I caught something about him being your father at some point, and—" His hand closed around her mouth with an almost vice-like grip.

"Agent Tunaghost," Zim tried to keep his voice steady. "I know you mean well. But that information, spoken aloud carelessly, could cause my death. It could also cause the death or torture or reprogramming of Tallest Red, which would also be bad for Earth." He released her mouth. "I am Zim. An ex-Invader dishonorably discharged. Of no relation to Tallest Red. Do you understand?"

She rubbed her mouth, wincing. "I get it, alright, I get it."

"So. For the final time, why are you here?"

Tunaghost regarded him for a moment, before answering, "You looked upset on the news clips. From the wedding."

Zim lifted an antenna. He'd watched that video feed, and he'd only appeared a few times. "So?"

"So, I'm just wondering what's bugging you. If you're alright."

"Why would it matter to you?" He picked up a tool to tinker with. "You're no longer being paid by the government OR the Swollen Eyeball to question me."

"Maybe that's the point. Maybe I feel like I wasted a lot of questions." His tinkering stopped as she continued. "Maybe I realize the questions were stupid ones that didn't mean anything, and wasted a lot of time. Maybe I realize I didn't ask any of the right questions at any point in time since you first came to the sewer-based headquarters. Maybe I realize that the lack of correct questions led to a whole lot more pain for you than you should have had to experience. And even after that I didn't stop asking stupid questions." Zim set the tool down carefully as her voice grew harsher. "It was all, 'How do you build this?' 'Are you going to tell me what this thing does?' 'What can I take back to the government?' when I should have been asking, 'Why do you have nightmares?' 'What would make them stop?' and 'Is there any way I can tell you how sorry I am for not stopping Darkbooty?' You know, little questions like that."

Her outburst died out into an awkward silence. She shifted on the table as he stared, unmoving.

"Well say something." She mumbled.

He watched her fidget her fingers against the edge of the table a little longer, before slowly responding, "I don't know how to fix it."

She glanced at him.

"I don't know how to fix this… and make them happy again." He looked down at the device he was working with. "I helped with the solution that saved the most lives and made the most people happy. But it made some of the people close to me most unhappy. And I don't know how to fix it."

"Well, who do you not know how to fix things with?"

"Gloria." He leaned back, waiting for her response.

"Have you tried a visit? A familiar face might do wonders."

"My status is still traitor to Irk, I'd be shot on sight."

"Well then, give me something to hand off to her. Something that doesn't incriminate you."

A thought crossed his mind. "Are you aware of—"

"Your connection to the Membrane family, yes." She finished. "It isn't hard to draw the dots when you speak of parentage on one side, and the knowledge of his past connection to her."

Zim bent over his workdesk with a piece of paper and a pencil. "Dib."

"Mothman's a talker. I'd suggest confronting him, letting him spill everything he's upset about. Usually he works it out in a monologue with himself and ends up feeling better in the end. You just have to be patient and hold your tongue."

Zim chuckled at that, it sounded about right. "Gaz?"

"What is she?" Tunaghost shivered a little. "Nobody explained that to me, what is this thing she transforms into? Or is that her natural form, and she transforms into a little girl?"

"Suffice it to say, morflars are an Irken's natural predator, and worst nightmare." He swallowed. "She's promised to keep her flares off me because I helped save Gloria, but her rage is still a frightening thing to face, as… as a prey creature."

Tunaghost shook her head. "I don't know what to tell you about Gaz. There's very little I know about her. But I would suggest initiating a conversation with her. That way you have the high ground and you're coming to her, not letting her find you."

He nodded slowly. "Your words have sense." He folded the piece of paper and handed it to her. "When you next go to the Massive, could you deliver this to Gloria?"

Taking the paper, she slipped it into her pocket. "Absolutely."

He turned back to the device on his desk and picked up the tool. "You should go. I need to continue this… thing… and building it."

She nodded, and slipped off the desk, heading toward the door she'd left hanging open a crack, when his voice stopped her.

"Thank you." He said quietly.

She twisted her head back around. "What for?"

"Nobody from the Eyeball ever apologized to me. Or said that anything they did was wrong, or anything less than well-deserved." He dipped his head slowly. "Thank you."

She nodded, and slipped through the door. She couldn't help a little curiosity over the note in her pocket, but she'd keep it for Gloria. Her first official visit to the Massive was scheduled for the next day, and as she had only met Zim and Tallest Red, it would be interesting to see what the general Irken populace looked like.


	5. Two Down

"-and I just don't get why you rushed into this like we couldn't find another option! I mean if we'd just had a few more minutes I'm sure we could have—"

Tunaghost's advice the previous afternoon about holding his tongue was getting harder every second. It had been precisely fifty-eight minutes and Dib was still _going_.

"—But you just ran in like you always do and sent her off! I mean, did you even take two seconds to think about how she'd feel later? Or were you just thinking about—"

Zim couldn't help wondering how many words the Dib had stored up for this, and if they were almost out. He could only hope. He did have to get ready for Gaz. _Then again, maybe I'll just listen to Dib go on…_

"—are you just going to STAND THERE and stare or are you going to say something?"

_Of course he's done now._ Zim shifted, calmly asking, "You are done now?"

"Yes!" Dib snarled. "Yes I'm done! Say something!"

Zim spread his hands. "What would you have had me do, Dib? Everything you say sounds right, but is completely illogical." He held up a hand against Dib's sputtering. "No, Zim's turn is now, make silence. First, there was no time. They would have begun a sweep of the planet at any moment. You know this. There was no idea-time or bargaining time, even Red had no other way out."

"I bet." Dib muttered.

Zim's eyes narrowed. Taking a step forward he landed a fist up on Dib's jaw, sending him sprawling back. "Don't you dare. Don't you DARE say that. Not after he crawled around in the dirt and the heat serving her for days, not after he saved her life _twice_ and didn't hurt her, not after all the time Gaz was hanging over his shoulder breathing down his neck, don't give me that dooky Dib. He's not who he used to be."

Dib rubbed his jaw, scowling stubbornly.

"Second, of course my family was the first thought in my mind. They're the ones that need the most defenses, because they don't _have _any! You have your technology left by your father, and your prosthetics that you've programmed to do Irk-knows-what. And you have GAZ. No, I wasn't thinking of THIS family, which is clearly well protected!"

Dib glanced aside.

"Not that that would have done anything against an Irken sweep, but in terms of priorities, yes, my mind went to the least defended of those near me." He took a breath. "Third, for some reason you continue to lay on me what happened when it was your mother herself who _told_ Zim to take her to the Massive! Now, are you going to continue to stay angry at Zim for reasons that are completely beyond the bounds of logic or are you going to get over your donkey self and HELP ME figure out what to do about it?"

Dib sighed. "I hate you when you're right."

"Likewise, and you've been right plenty, it's Zim's turn."

Muttering, Dib righted himself. "So what are you gonna do about Gaz? I haven't seen her since Mom left, but she's probably got something cooking for you."

Zim twitched slightly. "Just stay upstairs tonight, and if you hear screams from downstairs, help?"

"Whatever you say Spaceboy."

…

Gloria settled back on her stool, staring at the piece on her sketchpad. It was dark, and not just because she'd used charcoal. A starved face stared out at her from in front of a jagged sunflower.

_Where did this image even come from?_

Ripping it out of her sketchpad, she crumpled the drawing, throwing it over her shoulder into the corner where a pile of other such drawings lay. All charcoals and gray pastels and pencil ground into the paper. She didn't even bother with the acrylics, she knew the first color she'd reach for would be black.

_This isn't me._

Her eyes shifted to the corner, where a shadow with no object to cast it lay curled, watching. True, her own mood was dark enough, but combined with Gaz's despair, it was proving difficult to find her own thoughts.

She'd spent the night in that room, sleeping up against the wall. She'd opened it for an Irken who had brought her food, and left to use the facilities. That had been an adventure all in itself. The Irken had had to shout directions on how to use the strange bathroom through the door, as she wouldn't unlock it for him. She was pretty sure she had the hang of it though.

But not a single drawing or painting had a splash of color. It's not that she couldn't pick up the brush and drip blue all over the canvas, but it didn't feel right. Nothing felt right but monochrome. And she didn't like it.

Another knock at the door. Probably more food. She hoped it was just that Irken. She didn't want to hear about how she hadn't used her new quarters. Someone had likely already informed Tallest Red. She walked over to the door, palming the lock and leaving a charcoal handprint behind.

It slid aside, revealing the Irken bearing her food. Next to him stood a woman with spiky yellow hair. She lifted a hand, waving.

"They told me you were to be called Lady Gloria. We never officially met." She extended a hand. "Agent Tunaghost. Not affiliated with the Swollen Eyeball, but for now interested in keeping first name to self."

Gloria took her hand carefully. "You're here because?" She felt a piece of paper in Tunaghost's hand.

Tunaghost shrugged, leaving the paper in Gloria's hand as she pulled hers back. "Call it a friendly visit. I have to come every couple of days and help Tallest Red sort his mind out a bit more. He says magic helps, and that's my specialty." She dipped her head with a small salute. "Maybe I'll see you on the way out, yeah? Lemme know if you want any goodies when I come back next." With that, she stuck her hands in her pockets and strolled down the hall. The Irken set down the tray of food hastily and scurried after her.

Gloria stepped back inside, closing the door and unfolding the paper in her hands. Holding it up, she read out loud, softly.

_Greetings. You may know me vaguely as your son's friend, Zee. I did some work on your eyes at one point._ Confused, she paused. A cold flare brushed past her face.

_"Keep reading. He can't reveal his name when contacting you. He's considered a traitor here."_

She continued. _I know your eyes may still need some improvements, as some things were left unfinished. Would there be a suitable time for me to visit Lady Gloria's quarters to finish repairs?_

_ "Just an excuse to get up here." _Gaz fumed in her mind.

_Please respond back with an answer to my riddle. Do shadows play games in the dark?_

Gaz's eyes widened. _"That little…"_

Gloria folded the note, slipping it back in her pocket. She glanced at the wall she'd dozed against. She felt so tired. And another night in this room was not an option. "Gaz, could you tell him he can come see me when you go?"

_"What makes you think I'm going to see him?"_

"Because I'm asking you to take a break." She turned, reaching a hand to the shadow against the nearby wall. "I need some time alone. Completely alone. Maybe some sleep alone would help."

_"You really believe him about the door in the wall being locked?"_

Her arms folded in front of her. "Does it matter? One way or another I can't stay in here forever. If I really have the power he tells me I have, then he can't lay a hand on me. If I don't… we'll know, won't we?"

_"There isn't a single word in that sentence that convinces me to leave."_

"Gaz. Please." _I need my thoughts to myself._

The shadow drooped some, but slipped a flare into her hand, squeezing it.

_"I'll be back tomorrow."_

"I know you will."

…..

**Note: **Couple things to note. First, it has been called to my attention some inconsistencies in the story. Some things that do not make sense. While I try to tie up all the loose ends I can, I inevitably miss several. Part of this is because of the 2 year gap between Maneem and Mekrelmar, and I think there was a yearlong gap in the middle of one of those, and then 3 more years between Mekrelmar and Danem. Yes, there will be holes and inconsistencies. If I ever rewrite this from scratch, I would fix them. But it doesn't make sense for me to work backwards in my own fic at the moment. Other inconsistencies can be attributed to certain preferences, like Zim's height. Does his growing make sense? No. I admit it doesn't. I didn't give a reason, and I should have given a reason. But at this point, because I have _not_ made his height a primary focus of the story, going back and giving a reason, or retconning it and making him short again, would raise serious problems in the story as it stands now. I can't fix it in this version of the story. If I ever revise it, I'd find a legit reason why he grew. I just find it very difficult, in my mind, to imagine interactions between Zim and anyone else when he's at knee-level. It hampers my ability to tell the story.

Also in answer to Invader Nae, I think this is the last story arc… but it has the potential to span two stories into a sixth because of how complicated the storyline gets from this point on… we'll see. I'll let it develop and see where the chips fall. Then again, I thought Maneem was a stand-alone story… (punches trollbrain)


	6. One to Go

Zim sat on the couch in the living room of the Membrane household, a game controller resting loosely in his hands. His sweater hung in tatters and a few scratches oozed a dark green. The TV in front of him flickered with the title screen of some game or another, and a second controller lay next to him, hooked up and ready for use.

He'd been sitting like that for a couple of hours, unsure when Gaz would be arriving. _Do shadows play games in the dark_ had been somewhat vague, but he figured she'd understand it was an evening invitation.

A cold chill crept up his spine, and he felt the couch beside him sag slightly. He didn't turn his head.

"Portal 2, huh? Interesting choice." She muttered, picking up the controls. "You pick that so I couldn't drill you full of holes?"

He shrugged. "It looked relatively devoid of dangerous weaponry."

"You've got guts to go fishing in my room for a video game."

"Yes." He muttered, gesturing at his sweater. "The flesh eating dolls are a nice touch. But I didn't peg you for a soothing-musics type." As her glare, he added hastily, "Your CDs and your game collections were right next to each other, I didn't touch your CDs."

She turned to face the screen, starting the game up. "Classical helps me think clearer." She mumbled, selecting two-player mode.

Zim nodded, moving his robot forward.

"So. You just invite me here to play games?" She began flicking buttons with practiced ease.

"No. But I figured it was time we discussed a few things between us."

"There's nothing to say. You're an idiot, and could have saved all this trouble by leaving when I told you to, and now it's spun out of control."

"So you say, but you withheld vital information from me every step of the way. Information which may have prompted me to leave faster. So really, whose fault is it?"

Gaz's jaw tightened as her robot leaped from platform to platform.

"Gaz, I don't want to keep blaming back and forth. What has happened has happened, and there isn't any changing it. The only thing we can do now is fix it moving forward. And I'm going to have serious trouble doing that if you and Dib and I are not all on the same side."

"Dib's pissed at you too." Gaz growled.

"He is not urinating anywhere, Gaz, but he and I have spoken already and have come to SOME understanding at least."

Rolling her eyes, Gaz shot a portal at the ceiling over Zim's robot. "We don't need to come to an understanding. You're just here to screw up my life and get away with it. That's all."

"This isn't just about your life, Gaz." Zim said tersely. "If you haven't gotten it into your head lately, there's a lot more than just you involved in this. There's even a lot more than just _your family_ involved in this. The entire planet hinges on making this bond work and keeping Tallest Red and Gloria safe."

"I've got Mom covered." Gaz hissed.

Zim glared at her. "Then stop antagonizing Tallest Red! I mean it Gaz! You know the effect you have on him. And you can't be so blind as to insist he hasn't changed at all. Look me in the eyes and tell me you think he'd raise a hand against her."

"Of course he won't, he knows I'd destroy him."

"If you weren't there," Zim turned his attention back to the screen. "I would bet on my life he would still not harm her."

"Well I'm not there now am I?" her form darkened some. "Maybe I'll take that stupid bet, since you're so quick to throw your life out the window."

Zim paused, hearing Mikko's words echoed back at him. He grimaced. "You're right. I am." He admitted. Sighing, he leaned back. "Gaz. I don't want to be terrified of you one moment, and furious with you the next. Honestly, it is exhausting. I would like to come to some kind of amicable agreement."

"Yeah. You and Dib both want that. But it's not happening." Her eyes narrowed.

"And why is that?"

"You're not my family." She gripped the controller. "I don't care what Dib thinks or says, or even what Mom says right now. You're not any part of my family, and you never will be."

Zim let the silence hang for a bit, advancing his bot and firing a portal to get Gaz's bot through a particularly nasty trap. "I'm not asking to be your brother you know. You're not any kind of sister I'd want. You're scary. But I'd prefer we start working together instead of you keeping me out of all your plans, and me keeping you out of all my plans. Can we agree to share information with the common goal of keeping the people we care about safe?"

Gaz frowned, jamming a button with her thumb. As they cleared to the next level, she muttered, "Fine. But don't expect me to run around saving your useless butt when you get in trouble."

"Likewise." Zim flipped his robot over a railing. "Now can you please explain why the game is suddenly trying to kill us?"

….

_ The Massive, home to the main scum of this universe. I consider just blowing up the entire ship, just rid the world of a nice chunk of this green stain. However that is not my objective. However, in order to get to my objective, some things need to happen._

_ Entering the Massive is beyond simple. I merely dock the patrol ship in the hangar, leaving the unfortunate drone jammed in the back where I threw his corpse. I sneak around corridors and hallways. Their cameras don't see me. Pitiful technology they have, it couldn't catch a hogulus plowing down the corridor, much less something more intelligent that doesn't want to be caught._

_ The guards patrol their robotic paths, back and forth. It's a good thing they never break away from them, or actually give a flirk about what may be happening in the hall nearby. All they'd have to do is take an extra step, but no. They turn and walk again, the same path imprinted in their minds. They might as well be robots. I'm glad they aren't though, where's the fun in that?_

_ Robots don't feel pain._

_ I hold out my hand in front of me as my red marks glow. The sensation I get, as a sort of red aura forms in my palm, never ceases to give me a twinge of amazement. Just a glob of ever flowing red energy, and as I concentrate, this aura becomes more solidified. Before you know it, I am holding a red knife in my hand, completely created by my will, my power alone. Unmatched in any universe, and all mine to control. Those fools would never know what hit them. I could destroy them all right now... if that were my objective._

_ I continue to slink down the hallways, until I reach the control room. Two guards stare blankly at the opposite wall. This should be easy. I wave my cape in the corner of the hallway, and it catches one of their eyes. He thinks he saw something, and they debate on who will check it out. One eventually comes, and before they know it, the red knife is in his neck. I keep him alive enough for him to utter out gasped chokes as the light leaves his eyes. The other comes out in a confused panic, and that same red knife is in his head, dropping him instantly. By that point the other one's cries are faint croaks, he shall be dead soon. I take a moment to allow myself a slight flicker of joy at the sight of the green blood that pours into the hallway. I should have about fifteen minutes before a maid or janitor drone makes a round and sees this. _

_ Plenty of time._

_ I open the control room door silently and sneak in. The Irkens in the room don't even acknowledge it opening. Their faces are glued to the screen. Some look like they haven't slept in days, perhaps weeks of constant monitoring of the entire Massive, so its quite easy for me to traverse around and not attract attention. I need to find the one camera that shows a non-Irken, and I'd assume someone of this caliber would be on a much more important camera. One connected to a bigger screen, perhaps, so I creep over to those, as quietly as possible, to get a glimpse and see if I can find what I am looking for, and where she is._

_ An odd figure passes by one of the camera. No antennae, and a full head of unbound hair trailing to the floor. Her body droops with fatigue, but apprehension tightens her features. An extra two fingers on each hand, a nose, and oddly designed eyes. This is no Irken._

_ Good, that's what I want. Tired are you human? Then why don't you take a rest... I can assist you in taking a lengthy one._

_ The human steps out of view for a couple of minutes, and returns in an odd set of clothing, patterned on the top and bottom with horses galloping in all directions, upside down, sideways, diagonal. She stares at the bed for awhile before slipping under the covers, her back turned to the camera._

_ Don't like the camera do you?_

_ I make a note of the room, and I am on my way, this should be quick and painless. And should get him off my back rather fast._

_ I stride calmly down the hall, avoiding the cameras, until I arrive at my destination. Security codes are always a bother, and smashing the panel will alert all concerned parties. Can't have that. I pull out a slip of paper with carefully copied codes on it. He made it too easy for me, and I wonder in passing why he needs her gone so badly. I punch in the codes, and I hear the buzzing and clicking of the door as it opens._

_ I peek in and take note of the cameras, none on me at the moment. I raise my hand, and it glows. I need to disable the cameras from a distance, maybe a bit more tricky, but not impossible. I take note as the wires on the cameras begin to glow red, influence by my power. One by one, they start to break, like I'm pulling them apart with my bare hands, but I am across the room. I can picture the static cutting on the feeds in the control room, and the Irkens starting to panic. I need to do this quick, and painlessly. I shut the door behind me and slink up to my target, silent, another red knife forming in my hand. The blankets have been pulled up around her head as she huddles in her sleep. A red platform appears below my feet, raising me up to her level. I am ready to end this._

_ The figure turns, onto her back, eyes still shut tight as if she's trying to force herself to rest. The covers she'd pulled up to her head fall back revealing a shocking shade of purple hair._

_ Alright, time to... time to... what's happening? My hand is raised, dagger poised to go into her throat...and its... shaking? I don't shake! I don't get nervous... why all of a sudden? Why now? I'm...locked in place... frozen... like some animal caught in a bright light... this isn't me... so why all of the sudden?_

_ Shouts ring down the hall. She begins to stir. It is too late, the moment has passed. If I stay another moment I will be seen, and the warning he gave echoes in my mind._

_ Cursing, I focus, my marks glowing, red energy enveloping my body. I was going to save this to escape once the deed was done, since it consumes the most energy, but she can't see me! And I can't stay here. In a flash, I have vanished from the room. My first and easiest attempt has failed. But...why was it a failure?_

…..

**Note: **Shift to first person present tense because CHIKARAfiction and I decided to put this part from inside Riddick's mind. Yes, it may disrupt the flow a bit, but we thought it would be good to be able to describe a few things from within Riddick's head. As always this series and most stories I work on are experiments in what works and what doesn't.


	7. Feeling the Strain

Red tumbled out of bed, bleary-eyed. From the floor, he twisted toward the door, blinking. It was emitting loud noises, and panicked voices that he couldn't make out. He rubbed his eyes and righted himself, sitting up. It was too dark to be the right time to wake up, the lights had always switched on by the end of the sleep cycle. So why was there banging on the—

"My Tallest! Open the door! There are two guards dead, the feed to Lady Gloria's room is cut. You must access the room, Lady Gloria has been attacked!"

Bolting to his feet, Red slammed his hand into the panel, opening the door. At least thirty guards stood in the hall, and as he craned his neck around, he could see two or three at her door, trying to reason with her. Shoving them aside, he stood at the door.

"Lady Gloria. Open the door."

Silence. Something twisted inside him. _Is she already dead?_

"Lady Gloria, if you're alive, you need to open the door. In exactly ten seconds, I will order the guards to destroy the walls around the door to gain access."

The seconds stretched out. Five. Seven. Eight. Then a click, and a hiss as the door slid aside. She stood there, expression flat, clothed in strangely patterned garments. At the sight of her standing there, unharmed, the twisting undid itself and relaxed, until she caught sight of him. She tensed, drawing back, and he cursed himself.

He'd been dragged out of bed with no time to dress in his armor. He slept in the ceremonial Irken skirt and little else.

_Not something she wants to remember._

He couldn't change it. He gestured at the room, and three guards entered. Red stayed just outside, keeping his eyes on the guards.

"Sir, the camera wires were cut." One of the guards called, inspecting them. "The feed went dead in the control room, but there was no forced entry."

Red turned to the panel beside her door. Next to the palmlock, coded for her hand, there was a small keypad to enter a code in. But he had erased record of that code from the entire database. Even he did not hold that code.

He turned back to Gloria. "Did you see anything?"

"Nobody was in the room." She said flatly. "I was sleeping. And suddenly everyone was banging on the door. That's all."

"Where's…" he stopped, glancing at the guards. He motioned for Gloria to come closer. Shoulders rigid, she complied. He leaned over, whispering, "Where's Gaz? Was she not here?"

"I sent her out for now. She will be back soon."

"Then it couldn't have been her. And she couldn't have seen anything. The one time—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "When she returns, I… need to speak with her… say so to her." He pulled back.

Gloria didn't move, or raise her eyes to acknowledge him. She only asked, "Am I allowed to go back to sleep yet?"

Red looked to the room full of guards, looking for any clues about the break-in. "You will have to sleep under guard for now."

"I will be the only one in my room when I sleep." Her voice was harder this time.

Red turned on her, eyes narrow. "There are certain privacies you are permitted, Lady Gloria, and as many as can be afforded to you will be. However any Tallest or leader aboard this vessel is subject to certain laws, one of them being that if their life has been threatened, they must remain under watch for a certain period of time! That applies to any Tallest, or other ruler, and you are not exempt. You will have to sleep under guard."

"I don't need a guard!" She grated. "I'll just wait until she—"

Red hissed, "She doesn't exist." He stared hard at her, fully aware of every antennae turned toward them. If anyone got wind of there being a Morflar on board, a full-scale panic would ensue, and drastic action would be taken. There were a number of sonic devices on board that could disrupt, bind, or kill such a predator.

For a moment, he considered carrying one on himself. It would only take a minute's exposure, and he would be free of her for good.

"She doesn't exist." He repeated. "You need a guard that is here. Two died tonight, I am told. You could have died tonight. Whatever it was came into _your_ room, not mine. You have been threatened."

Turning, Gloria marched back into the room, Irkens scattering to get out of her way. Throwing back the covers she climbed in, yanked the blankets up, and lay down, her back to the door.

_Wonderful._

Red pointed his claw at one, two, three of the guards, and flicked his hand, dismissing the rest. The chosen three remained, positioning themselves around the bed. He turned and trudged down the hall, resigning himself to wakefulness. No doubt he would be receiving a visitor shortly, and he had to be ready for her.

Ducking into the recreational viewing room, he draped himself over his favorite lounge chair, staring at a blank viewing screen that covered the wall. Absently, he reached over to the nearby table for a handful of curly fries. His hand brushed the empty table, and he froze.

_Of course. Pur always ordered the curly fries._

He withdrew his hand, even as the attending drones scurried to place snacks on the table.

Tallest Purple.

He hadn't had time to think about the demise of his former co-ruler, everything had moved so fast. Well, everything but the earth governments.

But something bothered him. Ate at his spooch and gnawed like a worm. It wasn't like suicide was uncommon. Every Invader was equipped with a self-destruct mechanism, and off and on they would find the remains of some drone or another who couldn't handle the pressure anymore. But Pur was never the type. Under pressure, he panicked and threw food, or tossed drones out into space. There was no telling how he survived training, but however he did, he went to great lengths to avoid pain, even minor discomfort.

_Pur just wasn't the type._

He didn't want to think murder. Who could murder a Tallest? Who would dare do it and hope to get away with it? But with tonight's attack, he didn't see another option. Someone was trying to kill Irken leaders, or new leaders of the Irkens.

Sunk in his thoughts, time passed him by, minutes to hours, until a cold chill swept the room. He jerked his head around, eyes landing on a short Irken with icy purple eyes, and a dark aura.

"You sent for me?" Her voice was dangerously low.

He forced his arms to hold still as he maintained his lounging position. "Welcome to the Massive, Gaz. Take a seat." He waved a hand, as an attending drone pulled up a stool for her. "We have a few things to discuss."


	8. With Murderous Intent

Before Gaz could open her mouth, Red cut her off. "I know you have been keeping a low profile due to the secretive nature of your previous mission, but it is good to have you back in the ranks." She paused, confused as he continued. "Your standing as an Invader is quite valuable to us, but we will be needing you aboard the Massive for a more personal matter. You are one of the fiercest guards available to the Massive." He leaned forward, folding his claws together to keep them steady. "And we will be requiring your services to keep watch on the new co-ruler, Lady Gloria."

Her eyes lit with understanding. Slowly, she took the offered stool, eyes still narrowed, but less hateful than a moment before. "I will need to be briefed on the entire situation." She growled.

Red took a slow breath in. She had accepted her new role, and the appearance she would need to maintain aboard the Massive. That was a start. He turned to the display screen, wires from his PAK plugging into the control panel and calling up the security footage from his room and Gloria's, displaying them side by side. "This footage is less than ten hours old. As you can see, there is nothing out of the ordinary for awhile. Lady Gloria went to sleep in her new quarters, and I," He pointed to the second security feed, trained on him in his own room. "Was in the adjoining room." He glanced at her, to be sure she understood.

She grunted, giving a small nod of acknowledgment.

Turning back to the screen, he continued. "You see here, the security feed from her room cuts out. At this point, the Irken Guard force swarmed on our quarters. She would not open until I demanded she do so, at which point I remained in the hall while my soldiers inspected the scene." He couldn't emphasize enough the distance he maintained from Gloria, he would say it a thousand times if he had to. "They found the camera wires cut, and no forced entry. The palmlock answers to Lady Gloria alone, and the code number has been erased from all databases. We found two guards dead some halls over, stabbed in the throat." He turned to Gaz. "We believe whoever came here intended to kill her, and had inside information nobody should know. Is this enough information for you? I understand you are an elite tracker with a keen sense of… smell..."

Rising from her seat, Gaz clicked her heels sardonically. "I assure you," she replied, "Whoever came here with the intention of harming Lady Gloria has very little time left to live."

Red turned away from her, as any Tallest would in dismissing an Irken of lower rank. He didn't have to worry about being considered arrogant. She could probably smell the fear seeping through his act.

…

_ The air smells fresh._

_ The green grass feels soft on my feet._

_ The sun is warm, inviting_

_ The blue sky is calm... serene._

_ This place is awful._

Riddick stood in an open field, glaring at the scenery around him. Flashing to the stolen cruiser had taken a lot of energy, but a trip to the nearest planet had given him time to restore his strength.

And dissect his situation.

_ One job. I had ONE JOB. How did I screw that up? HOW?_ Riddick smacked his head repeatedly, replaying the entire scene in his head, over and over. _I did everything right except KILL her! And now security will be strengthened, everyone will be on high alert. And most of all, he will be furious. At least she didn't see me, or I'd have a bigger problem. _

He ran a hand across the brim of his hat, turning to pace.

_ Ok... I cut the camera feed, I got into her room simple enough. It wasn't nerves, I know my body and what I'm scared of, which is nothing. So what was it... ok red knife in my hand, her back is turned to me, her hair falls out from under the covers, its p- _

_ ...The hair._

_ The hair was... purple. DAMN IT. I knew it couldn't be easy, I just knew it. That color always comes back to haunt me. I hate purple. Most disgusting color ever to be seen by the eyes. Every shade, every hue, just its existence. The sight of it makes me lock up... tense... because it just disgusts me. And she had a mop of it on her head. That's why I hesitated...the color of her hair. _

_ What a petty excuse, but its the excuse I have. What a lucky woman to be graced with that shade. Any other humanoid in the world would have been killed in an instant. But she's a special case, I can tell, or he wouldn't have come to me. She's bridging two worlds and bringing them together. I could care less... but now I need to rethink my strategy. A projectile weapon from a distance, to the head. That would do much better... no relishing in the kill this time, just quick death, end it, and that's all there is to it. It might be harder now, but I don't care. They are nothing compared to what HE is capable of..._

The sun hung low in the sky, an early morning dawn, but the air was suddenly chill, almost frigid. The color around him seemed to drain, the greens and blues losing their richness.

Ridddick blinked and looked around. That wasn't normal. Something flashed through his mind. What had he said? His eyes widened.

_ The woman is normally guarded by a morflar. FLIRK._

He'd forgotten, those things had senses that were galaxies wide. He stretched out his arms and enveloped himself in a red ball. He was so thrown off it would be useless to run, he had to protect himself first and foremost, and then come up with a plan.

_"Really."_ The voice rang in his mind, cold and filled with hate. _"Do you think that is going to save you?"_ The shadow hadn't shown itself yet. _"Fancy trick. Not one I've seen yet. Is that how you cut the wires?" _The air grew colder. _"Is that how you would have killed her?"_

"Don't test me lapdog, I'm in no mood for shadow puppet mindgames." Riddick knew he could be in some danger here, but he didn't care. He wasn't about to become a shadows dinner.

His red ball lifted up and soared through the air, slamming against an oak at the edge of the field. _"Lapdog am I? And you? Do you act on your own, or are you on a leash? WHO SENT YOU?"_

The oak shattered apart, but the ball remained firm. "Wouldn't you like to know hmm? My, this isn't a Morflar's style at all now is it? Brute force? Who taught you your manners?"

A black shadow rose up from the ground, condensing into a small, tight little form, hands balled into fists, purple hair curled around into spiky bangs. She lifted her head, glaring through the red force. "Take. One. Guess."

The ball quivered ever so slightly at the purple hair, but he shook it off and regained his composre. "Oh look, it must have been adopt-a-morflar day."

"Yeah." She growled, sprouting an eye in the middle of her right cheek and a wide mouth up and down her left arm. "My name is Gaz, and now it's kill-a-brainless-Irken day." Her mouth twisted into a hideous grin. "Or did you have the misguided idea that I was hungry?"

Riddick scoffed. "Oh look at you. You're cute trying to be intimidating. Do tell me, can you turn into grotesque monsters? Giant Spiders, Horgoths Blicklesnicks? Morflars have impressed me with that they can change into, I'll say that much."

Gaz's eyes narrowed, and suddenly they hovered just inches away as she appeared inside his red ball. "Is that so?"

Riddick didn't bat an eye. "Oh it's so really. Neat trick. I bet you're wondering where that sweet smell of fear is, aren't you?"

"I don't need your fear." Gaz spat. "You're drenched in the fear and blood and death of a thousand Irkens, you must be the easiest creature in the galaxy to track. You're just twisted enough not to be afraid of me, but it doesn't matter." She reached for his neck. "I don't want your fear. I want you dead."

Riddick grabbed her arm, swatting it away. "You really think I'm afraid of you? Do you realize I've killed Morflars before? You know what's funny... you aren't that intimidating when someone finds out your weakness. Then you're just a puddle of black ink."

For half a second, Gaz faltered, then billowed out several flares, trying to smother him before he could act.

Riddick flicked his fingers and a small red ball appeared in front of him. It exploded, not with a backlash or a boom, but with a precisely tuned SNAP noise.

Gaz flailed back, flashing out of his ball and onto the ground, holding her head.

"Really? Just one?" Riddick fiddled with a few more in his hand as he too stepped out of the ball, a bored expression on his face. "Well you are just a flarling, but even so. My, living with Humans as made you soft."

Gaz's eyes snapped open, a blazing red. _"Stay away from her. Do you hear me? Don't TOUCH her. Don't even LOOK at her again."_

"So sorry, but see if I do that," He rolled the balls in his hands absently. "It'd be a lot worse for me. See, I really don't care about you, or anyone. All I know is she needs to die. Is that going to make you sad? I didn't know Morflars got sad. Could you cry for me? I would like to see if your kind could produce tears."

Gaz lunged at him, mouth open wide with razor sharp teeth. Riddick flung three red balls in her direction, and each exploded with the same SNAP noise, each successively louder than the last. Gaz dropped to the ground, unable to hold a form anymore, just a black shadow writhing on the ground.

Riddick strode up to her, and leaned down. "Now, how about you listen to me for a change, if you can keep your head straight after that. Hold on let me check. AM I COMING IN CLEAR?"

The shadow recoiled away from him, so damaged that even the shout was painful.

Riddick bent over her. "Now you listen to me. You can tell the entire Massive about me. You can tell your Tallest exactly what I did to you. You can tell the entire. Flirking. Planet. About what I can do. If anything, I'll enjoy the exposure, because none of them will be able to stop me. The more that get in my way, the more will die. One life, or the entire race? Or two races? I don't really care. I didn't even break a sweat, and you are quivering at my feet, miserable sludge you are. Take all the security precautions you like for her. In time, she will fall, and my job will be done. Tell that to the Irkens and Humans you've degraded yourself by living with. You aren't worth another second of my time. When you can figure out which way is up again, tell them. See you soon." With that, he walked briskly away, hopping into his cruiser.

As he warmed the engine up, he glanced over, watching the pathetic puddle begin to slink away, rippling and shivering. Disgust welled up in him, and he raised the vessel into the air, drifting just above her. "You know what, you were quite rude." He opened the hatch, releasing another small red ball, and watched it explode directly above her.

A horrific shriek ripped the air as the shadow vanished completely.

"Hmm. Did I kill her? Oh well. If she lives she lives, if she's dead, she shouldn't have come looking." With that, he closed the hatch and took off to find a quieter destination. He was sure to hear from him rather soon. He was not looking forward to that meeting.


	9. First Aid

Zim woke with a start, blinking at the light spilling through the blinds. He sat up, wincing as his antennae flicked up. He'd slept on the left one wrong, and it hurt. He rubbed it gingerly as he glanced down at the controller still in his hand.

_Must have fallen asleep during the game._

He pushed back the blanket that—_blanket?_—He stared. It was definitely a blanket. Dib, most likely, he assured himself. But hadn't Dib been upstairs all night? _He could have easily come down while I was asleep._ He nodded. Dib had blanketed him. It was thoughtful, maybe Zim would refrain from punching him for a week, even if he said stupid things.

He brushed the blanket aside and stood, stretching. A visit to the clothings store would find him a new sweater to replace the one in tatters. And if they didn't have one just like this, he would find some tailor-drone to do the work. He'd come to like this one, it was comfortable, and maybe even—

Something blew past him, knocking him back down to the couch. A wailing shriek tore through the silence, as things began to crash and break around the room. A shadow flailed along the walls, the floor, the ceiling. It was everywhere and nowhere at once, always moving, flailing, gibbering a scrambled mess of words. It stretched and compacted, reaching out and curling in on itself every other second, unable to stay still. Even so, only one such shadow would come here.

"Gaz, what happened to you?" Zim stared in horror.

An inarticulate wail was the only response he received.

Something flashed through his mind, and he grabbed onto it. It was a slim shot, but Gaz was in no state to tell him anything, and it was his only clue. He darted up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and swinging around to burst into Gaz's room. The flesh-eating dolls all gleamed to life, homing in on him. This time he was ready, this time he knew where they were, and exactly what his target was.

As the jack-in-the-box sprang at him, he leaped over it, catching hold of the ceiling fan and swinging around. The clawed-monkey grabbed ahold of a spinning fan-blade, but Zim had already released, dropping down onto Gaz's bureau. Sweeping a leg, he cleared the top of the dresser of all dolls. One hand wrapped around the handle of her CD player, the other snatched a handful of the nearby musical discs. A large metallic-jointed snake coiled at the base of the dresser, ready to strike the second he leaped. He extended a laser, blasting the snake's head off as he hit the floor, bounding out the door and back down the stairs.

The living room was being torn to pieces. _Where is Dib?_ He plugged the player into the nearest outlet he could find and loaded a CD in, slamming the play button. Seconds later, a smooth, commanding strain of music floated out from the speakers. Zim cranked the volume up, hoping his hunch was correct.

The shadow flailed toward the player, landing on the floor nearby and puddling in place. It still jerked and spasmed, but as the music swelled and reached its crescendo, the movements stilled more and more. By the end of the piece, the puddle was perfectly still.

Zim leaned over as the next song began to play. "Gaz? Can you hear me?"

A flare reached upward from the puddle, and dissipated back down. She couldn't hold a shape, whatever damage had been done to her was bad, and he needed Dib. He rose to leave, when a flare wrapped around his ankle. The contact ripped through his mind, as a helpless sob wracked his thoughts.

_He's going to kill her. Zim, he's going to kill her, and I can't stop him. I can't stop him!_

Alarmed, Zim sat down, placing his hands on the puddle for more information. "He's going to kill who? Who is he?"

An image seared into his mind, a face. A contemptuous glare on the face of an Irken, covered in red marks. Power to create things out of nothing. Assigned to kill Gloria.

_He already tried once, but he's going to come again. He doesn't care who I tell, because he knew nobody can stop him!_ The thoughts reached a fevered pitch. _I can't stop an Irken, Zim! He knew my weakness. I expect the Armada to know a Morflar's weakness, they keep Morflars for training purposes, but not outlaws like him. How does he know? I can't stop him! He's going to kill her, we have to get back to Mom!_ Small flares reached out from the puddle as she struggled to take form.

Zim pressed his hands against the flares, shoving them back down. "No. Now you listen to me Gaz, you are going to stay here. Whatever this music does it must help you counteract whatever attack he launched. You're not strong enough."

_But—_

"No! Stay here! I will send an urgent message to Tallest Red. If we must speak in private, the eyes of Irk can't follow us everywhere on Earth. I will tell him to bring her, and we will regroup and plan from here." He kept a hand on the puddle. "I will find Dib and bring him here. Just don't move."

Zim turned, making a beeline for the door. If Dib hadn't come down to investigate after all that noise, then he wasn't in the house. If he wasn't in the house, Zim had no idea where to start. But if Dib's end-of-the-world-text was any indication, he knew where to start.


	10. Background Movements

**Note: **Yes, this is the story formerly known as Obeindu. However a plot point that needed addressing came up, which absolutely decided the fact that this arc needs to be two separate fanfictions. It's just too complicated and long to fit in one (at least for my fanfictions, which run between 20 and 30 chapters). Therefore, as the "theme word" of teamwork no longer fits what will essentially be the first half of this arc, the name has been changed to Scarazial, a more fitting term for this arc.

…

_He's wrong. He's so wrong._

Dib stared at the computer screen in his room, as he'd been doing for the last several hours. A quick peek downstairs had assured him that Gaz wasn't harming Zim. The two seemed deeply engaged in some video game or another, a smart move on Zim's part. But as he continued to sit in his room, he couldn't shake the thoughts that kept returning.

_He shouldn't have sent Mom._

Dimly, he could recall some sort of discussion with Zim that morning, and his jaw was still sore from the alien's punch, but the details were hazy. He couldn't remember the points Zim had made, or why he'd stopped being upset with Spaceboy. Nothing had been resolved, after all, his Mom was still aboard the Massive, under Red's thumb.

_It's all his fault._

Something rustled outside his window, breaking through his thoughts. Keeping his body still and pointed toward the computer, he angled his right arm so the palm faced toward the window, and stared at the reflection off the computer screen. He wasn't interested in a late night assault.

His window flew open and a black form darted in. His palm glowed, firing a split second too late. He heard it coming up behind him, and whirled around, slamming his still-glowing palm against the person's head.

His attacker barely flinched, the muzzle of a blaster resting against Dib's temple. Dib's eyes flicked to the blaster, lighting with recognition. "Mikko! What were you thinking?" He pushed her back, irritated. "I could have killed you, I wasn't set for stun!"

"Isn't that part of improving in training?" Mikko pulled her hood back, tucking the blaster away. "Setting the bar higher, raising the stakes?"

"Yeah, but not getting yourself killed is kind of important! Especially by me! Who knows what Zim would do if he found out!"

"Well you weren't answering any texts or calls for further training either, how else was I gonna get ahold of you?" She glared. "Had to find out what all the ruckus was from Zim and TV, not one word from you."

Dib turned back to his computer. "I've been busy."

"Too busy to explain your text?"

He grimaced. His chair spun toward her as she kicked the side of it. She folded her arms, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. "Go on. Start explaining."

"What's there to explain?" He mumbled, keeping his eyes down. "I thought it explained itself."

" 'I think you're pretty' leaves a lot of questions open!" She protested.

A dull throbbing began behind Dib's eyes. He pulled off his glasses, rubbing them tiredly. "Yeah, so it does, but I haven't had time to figure out answers to those questions with Zim being the stupid idiot that he is right now."

Mikko blinked. "Why, what's he doing?"

"Nothing." Dib shoved his glasses back on. "Nothing, just… being Zim."

She eyed him sharply. "When you figure out those answers, you'll tell me?"

"What was the question again?" Dib mumbled.

"I didn't say, but implied is 'What now?' "

"I'll get back to you on that." Dib pinched the bridge of his nose. The throbbing was getting worse. "Any other questions?"

"Yeah. How fast can you get to the park?"

"The park?" He glanced up to see her by the window.

"Cause our training session is in fifteen minutes, don't be late."

"Wait!" He bolted up, but she was through the window and down the tree already. Groaning, he slipped through after her. Maybe some sparring would clear up the headache.

…

Tunaghost sifted through confiscated Swollen Eyeball data from the comfort of her apartment. She'd been granted access to the files fairly easily, but working as an aide to Tallest Red had its perks. Anyone who had the ear of the highest ranking Irken got what they wanted at this point.

And she wanted to know what happened to DarkBooty.

She had never worked much with him, but she'd heard people talking about him as she passed him in the halls. And the phrase she'd heard most, even in her earlier years at the Eyeball, had been, "He's so different now…"

Scanning through clips and memos and video files, she could see it. He'd come to the Eyeball in his early thirties, determined to prove aliens existed. He'd just been hired at Nasa as a janitor. His IQ should have landed him a higher ranking job, but he preferred to work behind the scenes, unseen. Nobody would suspect a janitor, he boasted. And nobody did. He single-handedly gathered enough intel from cleaning Nasa's floors and keeping an eye on their unused equipment, that he maintained funding for the alien studies wing for two decades.

Then, things began to change. Actual alien test subjects began coming into the Eyeball. Civilians were brought in who never left. DarkBooty began to get a harder expression in the photos taken of him, his eyes shifting back and forth as if he were being watched. Experimentation on the alien test subjects, initially benign, became brutal and bloodthirsty—surgical with almost no rhyme or reason. Aliens whose organs had already been mapped out due to their predecessors in the laboratory suffered the exact same fate, re-opened again and again.

And then Zim. Twice, Booty had laid him open, but it made no sense. On the wall behind him was a large-scale poster illustrating an Irken's internal organs—of which there were two. Yet Booty seemed to take a sadistic joy in making him scream.

_ What happened?_

She hovered over one file, opening it. A hallway camera, capturing footage of Zim's escape. Dib lay collapsed in the hall, shot and in shock. DarkBooty ordering open fire on Zim and Dib. Zim, extending whatever half-destroyed tools were left in his PAK in an attempt to look threatening, standing over Dib in defense.

She paused on that image, staring at it. Not all scars there were from the Eyeball. Most, it seemed, he had gotten through harsh training. It really was a marvel, given everything he said and everything those who knew him could relate to her, that he continued to find the will to fight on. And beyond that, to find something precious enough to fight for. So many would have turned dark, destroying everything around them, but Zim continued reaching through the darkness until he found what he needed.

The fact that DarkBooty was unable to grasp that this alien was no threat to humanity, as head of the alien department, was both disturbing and no longer believable. Something had happened to Booty, and it was about time she found out what.

She glanced at the screen again. She wasn't the only one who should find out. If anyone deserved answers from DarkBooty it was Zim. Scooping up her cell, she flipped through numbers to dial her connections. She needed a visitation room in the local prison block.

…

**Note: **Just for the record… If you're not following the askresilientzim tumblr, sometimes I post up side chapters that don't appear here, little snippets of background that just don't fit with the main fanfiction. For example, somewhere in the history you will find a training scene between Dib and Mikko that shows how she's improving. It may seem a bit sudden here, but there's more background and things going on in the Ask that add another dimension to everything. This fic has become a multimedia presentation…


	11. Collecting the Strands

Zim's hunch hadn't been far off. A quick trip to see Della had confirmed Mikko had left the night before, dressed in black, and that she'd been doing that for awhile.

"Is she in trouble?" Della had demanded. "Is it the Eyeball?"

"No, just the Dib-stink." Zim muttered. "Does she say why she's going?"

"Not really. She's usually harder to wake the next day though, and complains she's sore all over. After Tiana was taken, we got her a can of mace, but we keep finding it on the desk and won't tell us why. She just says she doesn't need it."

"Does she ever say where to find her?"

"She says she's gone to the park most of the time."

A quick vault over to the park set his irritation burning to anger. Blast marks plastered the trees all over, and in several places the grass was scorched, or so green that it could only be fresh grown over old scorch marks. This had been going on for awhile. How could he not have figured it out?

They weren't there, and he'd just come from talking with Della, and before that from the Membrane household. He turned on his heel, racing toward the emergency room

_Dib I will murder you if I find her here._

Bursting through the ER doors, he took a moment to pull himself upright, before declaring loudly, "I am Zim! And I need to know if a certain stupid idiot by the name of Dib Membrane came in with a young female by the name of Mikko who is about…" He clenched his jaw, raising a hand over his head, "This…. Tall… and has black hair, and maybe a bad burn."

A harried nurse looked up from the window. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait your turn like everyone else."

Zim strode up to the window, crossing his arms and doing his best to look intimidating. "Listen medical drone, there are days when Zim is patient, and days when Zim is understanding, but today is not one of those days. Was there a hyuman of that description entered here in the logbooks or not?"

"Sir, please take your seat, there's a line—"

"Do you WANT an adult sized temper-tantrum here on your floor or will you tell me if she was admitted here? I am her brother!"

The nurse paused, sizing him up. "Sir, you don't have a relative here, that's for sure."

Zim's antennae flattened for a moment, then sprang up in alarm. "What is THAT?" He pointed behind her dramatically. She turned, startled, as he seized her sign-in sheet, scanning it.

_Mikko, under care of Dib Membrane. Room 251._

"Hey! Do you want me to call the police?"

He shoved the clipboard back at her and stormed through the "Doctors Only" door, pushing past wheelchairs and nurses and long white coats he refused to think too hard about.

On finding 251, he stomped in, exuding as much rage as his five foot frame allowed. "The FLIRK were you thinking?"

Mikko sat on a table, legs hung over the side, arm extended out to a doctor who was inspecting it. Dib hovered nearby, a worried expression on his face. Of the three, Dib was the only one who didn't look up.

The Doctor frowned. "What are you doing? You can't just barge back here like this!"

"Yes, so the medical drone up front said. She also said police, but I'm her brother, and I'm here to make sure she's being treated well."

"Her… brother?" The Doctor snorted.

"He is." Mikko frowned at him. "He's my brother, call my home number and Mom and Dad will say so too."

He shook his head, returning to study her arm. "You have a strange family then. She'll need a small skin graft, but she'll be fine, I'll take care of it."

Zim nodded, eyes narrow. "Very well. You," He pointed at Mikko. "I will talk to later. You," he pointed at Dib, "I will talk to NOW."

Dib finally looked up, his brows pulled together. "Not now Zim. I'm gonna stay and make sure things go okay."

Zim crossed the room, reached up, yanked Dib down by his coat collar, and hissed in his ear, "While you're running around taking care of MY family, YOURS is falling apart. Your mother has an attempt on her life last night, and your sister is currently in the living room, lying in a puddle of herself. Mikko is in the hands of a capable doctor, and as soon as I get Della on the phone she'll be here also. We're leaving NOW."

Pale, Dib straightened, brushing past Zim. "Sorry Mikko, I have to go. I'll explain later."

Zim patted her knee as he passed, muttering, "We _will_ speak of this later… but be brave and heal soon." With that, he headed out after Dib, doing his best to keep from slamming him over his big fat head with every large blunt object he passed.

…..

The day had turned to evening, and that evening found Riddick in a clearing in the woods, dully poking the fire he'd built and considering his next move. So he hadn't killed the flarling, but did some damage to her. Enough for her to realize her cause was hopeless. He heaved a low sigh, and spoke up. "I know you're here, no need to beat around the bush, let's get this over with."

The fire extinguished itself, and a pair of yellow eyes gleamed from the frame of a shadowy figure standing in the embers. "So, I hear you made the top segment of the Irken Information Network as the mysterious assassin." The sound of a slow clap followed this statement. "Bra-vo. No image. No kill, but no image." His voice sounded like a snake, coiled to strike at any moment.

Boredly, Riddick replied, "Sorry. You failed to mention that the target had a particular color to her person that I despise, and gave me no time to prepare. It stunned me, and it blew my window. She didn't see me, so Ill just kill her next time."

The slow clap came to a halt. The voice continued, as if Riddick hasn't spoken, in a cheerful tone. "I also heard there was an altercation with a certain Morflar, how did that go?"

"How do you think it went? I obliterated her. She knows she can't stop me, and no amount of guards can either. They are all ill equipped to do anything against me, so the target will be eliminated very soon. Then you can go about with whatever you want, and I can go my merry way as well."

The eyes moved closer to Riddick, narrowing. "So tell me, since you are such an expert on Morflars, what are their capabilities? Indulge me."

"I wiped her out with sound. She was just a flarling, I threw contained sound bombs with my power, crippling her and her 'intimidation' factor—"

The voice lowered to a demonic roar. "I DIDN'T ASK FOR HER WEAKNESSES. I ASKED WHAT HER CAPABILITIES ARE."

Riddick finally looked up. "A Morflar, so stealth, shapeshifting, being annoying."

The voice returned to its pleasantness. "Shapeshifting, wonderful, and tell me something. What image will be burned into her mind after you brought her so close to death?"

Pausing, Riddick frowned. "What, you're worried about them knowing what I look like? I already told her that I wanted her to tell anyone she could. They CAN'T stop me. You know that, and this job should be over by the time she's even able to tell anyone in the first place. It doesn't matter. Any Irken or Human who tries to stop me will fail anyway, even if they do know who I am.

The eyes gleamed as the voice sang sweetly, "Including your target?"

"Yes including the…" he blinked. "Wait, your objective was she wasn't supposed to see me. I thought that meant so she couldn't scream out or call for help, a quiet kill. What would it matter if she knows what I look like?"

The eyes moved within inches of Riddick's face, narrowing. "Allow me to enlighten you. If this person lays eyes on you, for any reason, or in any image, she will be able to prevent you from killing her. And I cannot allow that to happen."

"Look, just because this woman is some kind of savior or bond," Riddick's voice dripped with scorn, "Or something else that I don't give a flying flirk about, just because she has a bunch of other mindless Irkens all squabbling around her at her beck and call, doesn't mean that I'll turn into that. Besides, there's no way that Morflar could get to the Massive to show her. I know for a fact, no matter what healing method she used, I still have a window, so this whole problem won't happen in the first place."

The shadowed figure let out a low growl. "You fool. She has a strength you can't begin to comprehend, and she will completely wipe out your will. This is not a warning, this is a fact." The eyes blazed. "Do you understand me? She is not to lay eyes on you!"

Riddick brushed his cloak off. "She won't. She won't get the chance, and anyone that gets in my way will suffer the same fate."

"They had better. If you happen to fail in your next attempt, you'd better hope that window of yours includes permanent damage to the Morflar's shifting abilities."

"I doubt she can even form a sentence. So if that's all, I suppose I need to keep my strength up for the endeavor right?" His eyes took on a hungry glint. "Did you bring anything for me to eat? I am starving."

The eyes pulled back, shining. "As it happens, there's one nearby in the town. As an added bonus, he would gladly stand in your way to the woman."

Riddick snorted. "Oh let me guess. The Flarling probably went right to him, meaning right now he's probably on his way to find transport to the Massive?"

"Hardly. He's running around trying to pull together strands of protection, trying to find out what is attacking. He's even calling your target straight down here."

"Calling her down?" Riddick spluttered. "Is he stupid or something? Irkens are idiots but at least they are far more technological than humans… he's making my job so much easier."

"He is rather stupid, and stubborn, but don't underestimate him. Just because he doesn't have your powers doesn't mean he'll go down easily." The eyes crinkled upward, as if a smile had spread beneath them. "Then again, you do enjoy it when they fight, don't you?"

"Especially when they think they have some hope. I can't believe this, from the Massive to Humans, this is a lamb to the proverbial slaughter."

"It had better be. This is your last chance Riddick."

Tilting his head, Riddick growled, "It will get done."

The figure returned to the fire pit. "So be it." The eyes vanished, and the fire roared to life in their absence.

Shaking his head, Riddick mused, "And here I thought this job would be a bit more difficult. Thank you, you stupid Irken, whoever you are, for making it easier. We're sure to meet soon. And when we do, you can die with the fool woman for your idiotic choice."


	12. Increasing Friction

**Note: **This first section is slightly out of chronological order, consider it as having come before the conversation between "Yellow Eyes" and Riddick. It's hard to keep everything in order when so much is happening at once, my apologies.

…..

***UNAUTHORIZED EXTERNAL LINK WITH TALLEST RED'S PAK ENGAGED***

***INTERCEPTED FROM TALLEST RED'S PAK***

**E5fz159:** Urgent information my Tallest.

**M8fr163:** Zim? Report.

**E5fz159:** There is a murderer who has made an attempt on Gloria's life.

**M8fr163:** We're aware of this Zim. I've sent Gaz to take care of the problem.

**E5fz159:** Gaz has been incapacitated.

**E5fz159:** My Tallest?

**E5fz159:** My Tallest I need to hear a response!

**M8fr163:** How?

**E5fz159:** Unsure. Major injuries sustained, she managed to communicate that the attacker knows a morflar's weakness. She's currently healing herself, but she has seen him, and may be able to replicate his face.

**M8fr163:** I will be on the next transport down.

**E5fz159:** Bring Gloria my Tallest.

**M8fr163:** Is the attacker in the area?

**E5fz159:** Yes, but as far as he knows, you will continue to be on the Massive. Let him go there for another attempt while you are down here. You know where to go. Lock yourselves down, I will be there as soon as I can. With Gaz.

**M8fr163:** Transmit to me faces of those who are allowed entry to the location. I'm going to tighten security, and anyone not recognized by the system will be vaporized.

**E5fz159:** Transmitting now.

**M8fr163:** We will be there by end of day.

***END OF PAKLINK TRANSMISSION***

…..

Zim kept pace with Dib, who had broken into a flat-out run the second he'd left the ER.

"What happened to my sister? And my Mom?" Dib demanded as they pelted down the street.

"I'll answer that as soon as you tell me what you did to MY sister!" Zim retorted. "Training her without telling Zim, I'll trade your lungs for a moo-toy!"

"You already did that!" Dib snapped. "And she came to me, for the record, asking to be trained. Accidents happen in training, or didn't you ever get hurt?"

Zim flinched, his mind recalling his image in the mirror on the few occasions he'd seen his own body reflected back to him. Why would Dib say something like that? He _knew._ "That's not the point! You didn't tell Zim, I could have helped you take certain precautions. Flirk, I probably could have built a training simulator that would have reduced chance of injury to two percent!"

"Yeah well right now all she needs is a skin graft on her arm, but you're telling me someone deliberately tried to kill my Mom and maybe my sister, SO TALK SPACE SCUM!"

Zim faltered in his step. Dib hadn't called him something truly degrading in a long time. Spaceboy, Lizard Head, and a few others that were meant in playful banter, but not something meant to make him feel low. "There was an attack on Gloria last night. Tallest Red sent Gaz after the attacker, probably because she could scent him out and destroy him. It turns out the attacker knows a morflar's weakness, and crippled her. She's back at your house right now. She can't hold form, but she's healing."

"And you just left her there?"

Resisting the urge to tackle Dib and duke it out right then and there, Zim snarled, "_I_ was the one who left her with a method that seems to be healing her. YOU were the one who was most notably absent from the house, and as she considers YOU her real brother and not Zim, I thought it would be best to fetch her REAL family to be near her!" He drew some satisfaction from Dib's wince. "I have also sent an urgent message to Tallest Red. He and Gloria should be down soon." He watched Dib's expression harden, and flailed his arms in exasperation. "Why are you still angry? We discussed this!"

Dib said nothing as they neared the his house, only slowing at the sight of Tunaghost approaching his door.

"Ghost, what are you here for?" He called.

She turned, catching sight of them. "I'm here for you, actually." She pointed at Zim. "You weren't at your base, or at your home. This was my third guess."

"Apologies, Agent Tunaghost," Zim brushed past to open the door. "But now is not the time, urgent things are happening."

"Yes, and this is urgent."

"It can't be as urgent as the urgent I am currently urgenting." He grabbed the doorknob.

"Zim we have to see DarkBooty. His condition is deteriorating by the hour."

Zim's grip on the doorknob froze. Dib grabbed his shoulders, shoving him aside, and entered the house. Zim stumbled to the side, catching himself on the railing by the door, and turned to Tunaghost, stunned. "Wh… why would you even think… I ever wanted to lay eyes on that human again?"

"There's too many questions Zim." She held out a folder. "I looked through his files. There was a shift in his personality at some point in time. Around his fifties. Before that, there wasn't a breath about alien torture, or human trade-ins, and suddenly it's all over his files. And why did he cut you open, Zim? He'd had Irkens in before, he'd mapped out all their organs, why you?"

Zim gripped the railing, looking ill. "Tunaghost, I don't want—"

"Zim, we have to get these questions answered, and time is running out."

"Look, perhaps next week I'll be in some frame of mind to discuss—"

"We don't have that much time, Zim. He's already been transferred to ICU, but the doctors are stymied as to what's going on. They say he probably won't last the day."

Pausing for a moment, Zim asked, "What is he dying of?"

"They don't know, his face just began burning away, very slowly. And the structure of his face is starting to crumble inward, or so they say, toward his brain."

Zim paled a moment. From inside, he heard Dib yell, "Zim, what did you do to help? I need to increase it, she's hysterical! Get in here!"

Zim glanced in through the door, then back at Tunaghost. Turning back, he called, "Musics, Dib, all classical and soothing musics, that is all I know. I have to go, I will return later."

Outraged, Dib shouted, "Zim you moron! You can't just leave, we have to help her!"

"There isn't anything else I can do, and anything I can do, you could also do. I will return later!" With that, he slammed the door. He stared down at the porch for a moment. "I don't want to see him. I never wanted to see his face again."

Tunaghost remained silent, letting Zim process his thoughts.

"This is the only time, though, isn't it?"

"It is." She affirmed.

Turning, he nodded. "Then let us visit DarkBooty."


	13. Reaching Past Trauma

_Hold it together. Just a little longer._

Tallest Red swept down the hall, a stony expression on his face, heading directly for Lady Gloria's recreational room.

_What could take Gaz down?_

_ How do they know her weakness?_

_ How did they know the code that isn't even recorded anywhere?_

_ FOCUS!_

He knocked on the door, stepping back a pace as he waited for it to open. The door slid aside as Gloria palmed the lock from the other side. Stepping aside, she waited for him to come in, her spine stiff as he passed her. He glanced at her, noting she still refused the Irken ceremonial clothing, continuing to wear the few sets of clothes she'd brought from Earth. Long-sleeved shirts and paint-spattered jeans. He made a mental note to have more Earth clothing brought up to the Massive. In the corner, two guards stood watch. Or rather, one stood at attention, while the other gazed oddly at the painting Gloria had been working on. Noting Red's entrance, the second guard quickly pulled himself back to attention.

Red ignored the lapse, and flicked his hands, dismissing the guards. Once they had left, he motioned to the door. "Please, I need to speak to you in private."

Gloria made no move to close the door. "You can say what you have to say."

"Lady Gloria, I have no way of knowing who is watching or listening. The more privacy we can maintain for this conversation, the better."

She still made no move to close the door. He rubbed his face. "I'd hoped to be able to tell you this under more peaceful circumstances…" He crossed over to her, stopping just short. "Hold out your ring-hand."

She raised the hand, holding it slightly away from herself. He took it carefully, and pointed to a small indent in the side. "Close your hand into a fist, and point the flat side toward a wall. Then press this indent." He released her hand and stepped back.

Following his instructions, she aimed the flat of the ring at the opposite wall, pressing the indent. A thin laser-beam shot out, drilling a hole in the opposite wall. She released it, startled. Immediately it stopped.

"If you press the indentation on the other side, it encloses you in a body-tight force field. I built that into the wedding-circle myself. It's a measure of personal defense, should you need it, that isn't readily visible to your opponent." He gestured toward the door, tiredly. "Now, if you feel I am about to stand and attack you, then by all means fire, but we must speak in private."

Silently, she pressed her hand against the panel, sliding the door shut. As she did, Red leaned down, placing a small marble on the floor. The marble split into three and rolled to different parts of the room, each smaller marble sprouting legs to scale the walls. Each mounted a different camera in the room, crimping onto the top and glowing. "The Control Room will be having temporary technical difficulties." He rubbed his face. "We have a few minutes." He dropped heavily into a chair, staring blankly at the floor.

Across from him, Gloria settled into a seat, her posture still stiff. "What did you want to talk about?"

He continued to stare at the floor, as if he could pull answers from it. "I asked Gaz to find out who attacked you. Morflars have a keen sense of smell, and it's likely it was an Irken. I have just received word from Zim that Gaz has been incapacitated by your attacker."

Gloria rose from her seat. "Incapacitated? What does that mean?"

"Morflars are highly sensitive to certain sonic frequencies. It doesn't have to be a loud sound, but sound at a certain pitch can scramble their minds, incapacitate them, and prolonged exposure will kill them." He cut her off as she took a breath, "Zim said she has already begun to heal herself. He advises we return to Earth immediately. Gaz has seen your attacker, and we may be able to identify him, or at least take some kind of precaution. He thinks the attacker will make another strike at the Massive, and that Earth may be safer for the time being." He closed his eyes wearily. "We need to leave in secret. No one on board can know where we've gone."

"Why is that?"

He opened his eyes. "A morflar's weakness is highly guarded information in the Irken empire, Lady Gloria. Very few know that weakness, and those who know it are all aboard this vessel. The passcode to your door, as well, is information no one should know, yet somehow it is known. I do not trust anyone here. The assassin may have an informant here."

"You wouldn't happen to know why someone is so intent on killing me, would you?" Her question was toneless, and he glanced up in surprise. Her face held little expression as she stared at him. For some reason, this twisted in his guts all wrong. She wasn't afraid of her murderer, she never had been. It was almost as if she barely cared.

_Is her situation here really so terrible?_

_ It isn't her situation here. It's the memories._

He dropped his head down into his claws.

_Hold it together._

_ Hold it together._

_ Hold—_

"What can I do?" He rasped, digging his claws into his scalp. "What do you want me to do?"

Silence.

"I can't change anything. If I could go back and hand you a blaster, I might just do that. But I can't." He gave a bleak chuckle. "Our Time-Object replacement technology never did stabilize." Images flashed through his mind, tiny wailing bodies flung through the portal over and over again, to meet various horrible fates. His claws sank deeper into his scalp. "I can't change anything." His voice cracked. "What can I do? Tell me…"

Silence.

_Of course._

He raised his head, standing and turning toward the door to avoid looking at her. "Pack lightly." He set a small black patch on a table as he passed. "Put this on when they're not looking. Act like it's your first day, and say you need to clean the escape pods. Some dumb drone ejects themselves at least once a week, no one will question it. I will meet you there in two hours." He waited at the door. She opened it for him, still silent, as he exited. Pivoting on one heel, he turned toward their quarters. Before they left, he wanted some viewing material for the trip.

_Footage of Purple's "suicide" should do nicely._

…

All the way to the hospital, Zim didn't say a word. He fidgeted with the tatters of his sweater as Tunaghost pulled into a parking spot.

Darkbooty, she'd explained, had begun to show signs of mental deterioration the first week in prison. He'd gone from forgetting which cell was his, to forgetting his name, to forgetting coherent word structure. He'd been released to the care of an asylum until yesterday, when he'd begun to scream incoherently, and his face began peeling back. At that point, he'd been taken to the ICU, where his condition worsened no matter what they did. All they could do, Ghost concluded, was to drug him as much as possible for the pain. But he was still screaming.

"And we are supposed to get answers from him in this state how?" Zim demanded, exiting the car and slamming the door.

"I don't know Zim, but there has to be something, some kind of clue, maybe in some of the words he screams? We can't just leave this at a dead end!"

"Maybe some answers are better left unknown." He kicked at a piece of crumbled concrete.

"I'm not satisfied with that." Tunaghost turned, walking toward the hospital doors. "If you came all this way to stay in the car, fine. But I'm getting something."

Cursing, Zim hurried after her. "You and your stupid questioning."

"Yes, well, bull-headed Irkens may be immune to my questions, but maybe not Booty." She pulled up to the front desk, stopping long enough to flash her government ID and ask for an escort to ICU.

The hall smelled of antiseptic and swabbing alcohol. The walls were white and sterile. Metal trays rattled down the hall, carrying clinking instruments that Zim shied from in passing. And somewhere someone was screaming.

His footsteps dragged, and the hall seemed to stretch out longer and wider than it was supposed to. He knew what was happening, his mind was playing tricks on him, but he couldn't stop it. Tunaghost, unaware, was already a ways ahead, and getting farther away. He was going to be frozen in the middle of the hallway soon, unable to move.

Sweat broke out across his forehead. _I can't be weak. Not here. Not now._ His eyes fixed on Tunaghost's back. Della wasn't here. Mikko and Tiana couldn't bolster him. He couldn't use Tom as his guide right now. Even Dib wasn't there to insult him.

_Can I trust her?_

His body responded before his mouth did, his right arm reaching out. "Ghost…" his voice was thin and strained. He tried again, a little louder. "Tuna…ghost…"

Her head turned, and she caught sight of him. Immediately she stopped and veered back. He could hear her muttering to herself, "I keep telling them they need therapists, not magic experts, stupid aliens don't listen." She pulled up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Zim, you okay?"

He stared at her, her idiotic question mocking him. She grimaced, "Dumb question, sorry. Come on. There's an outside walkabout exit up ahead, few more steps okay?"

He nodded, moving forward on legs like rubber. The screaming and tray rattling echoed and re-echoed in his head over and over. Tunaghost opened the door for him, and he passed out from the sterile white halls into a small green courtyard. The door hissed shut behind him, blocking out the sounds. Immediately he felt some of the cramping in his gut release, and he sank to a bench heavily.

"Bad trigger, huh?" Ghost sighed from beside him. "Guess I didn't think that part through. I'm sorry Zim."

"It's stupid." He growled. "I was just in a miniature-hospital to see Mikko. I had no difficulty then."

"Well, if Mikko was in the hospital, I'm going to guess your mind was on her, not on you." Tunaghost remarked, "And probably nobody was screaming."

Zim considered this, then nodded. "That sounds about right."

He could feel Tunaghost staring at him as he collected himself. "Can you do this? I really wasn't thinking how much the setting would affect you, I wouldn't blame you if you jetted back over to the car, or however you do that."

He gave a short chuckle. "That would cause widespread heart attacks at all the windows now, wouldn't it?" He stood. "It's alright Agent Tunaghost. I think I'm a little more prepared."

She nodded, standing with him. Together they re-entered the hall. Zim's antennae flicked at the screams, but he set his jaw and moved forward.

After what seemed like an eternity, they entered the ICU. Following the sounds, they came up to a bedside, pulling back the curtain.

Zim's eyes widened, taking in the damage. They hadn't exaggerated, the upper half of Darkbooty's face had boiled away, and what was left had sunk inward a few centimeters. He turned away, trying to hold down a heave.

"Well. That confirms that." He mumbled, breathing slowly through his mouth. "I killed Darkbooty."

….

"Gaz, I keep telling you, it's Dib! It's me, why are you doing this?"

_"Who are you?"_

Dib ground his teeth. The inky puddle continued to evade him, dragging the CD player wherever it flowed. Since he'd come through the door, Gaz hadn't allowed him within two feet of her.

_This is his fault too. All his fault. He got my Dad killed. He almost got my Mom killed. Now he's trying to get my sister killed, or take my place, I don't know what. This is going too far._

_"Who are you?"_ The wail rang through his mind, as Gaz darted under the table.

"I'm Dib, Gaz!" He shouted, slamming his fist down on the table, denting it.

_"No! No you're not, go away!"_

Dib turned, storming out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

_Zim will pay. I don't care what I have to do, Zim will pay for all of this._


	14. Intensive Care

"Knock it off, Zim, you didn't do this. It started happening yesterday, and you haven't seen him since the court date, right?"

"Agent Tunaghost," Zim took a breath and straightened, keeping his back to the screaming old man. "If you have been going through files and footage from the Eyeball, then you saw the interaction between myself and Darkbooty in the hall, correct?"

"The sound was garbled, but I saw, yeah."

"Then you saw the part where I grabbed two blasters and shot him point blank in the face."

"What? No, you missed, you had to, he wouldn't have survived that!"

He turned his head to stare at her. "Agent Tunaghost. Me. Ex-Invader Zim. Missing a point-blank shot at someone who had just about gutted me. Reconsider your words."

"But…" She turned to look at Darkbooty. "He was just fine afterwards! And for weeks… why now?"

"There was something else." He turned. "I haven't had time to consider it much lately, and I've had no inclination to come discuss it with him. But after the shots… his eyes were yellow. Not white, like a normal hyuman's. And he said he was heavily protected for some reason." His eyes shifted to Tunaghost. "Zim is not the expert on paranormal activity, Agent. With that description, what would you say happened?"

Tunaghost's face had drained of color. "It fits," she murmured. "The sudden change in behavior, and this… he was possessed."

"Possessed," Zim prompted, "What owned his body then?" He turned back to Booty. "Whatever it was, it left him. And took its protection with it. Along with his wits. And because of that…" his hands shook a little. "I have killed… am… killing Darkbooty. Very slowly." He pointed to the mess of a head. "From the description, I had suspicions. But this is what a plasma blaster would do, in slow motion. Two blasts, here and here."

"So there's nothing that can be done," she sighed. "Past injury is catching up and he's going to die no matter what, is that what you're saying?"

Zim blinked for a moment, and his head whipped up toward Tunaghost. "You mentioned that there was a sudden shift in behavior for Darkbooty, correct? That he began behaving strangely, different than normal?"

"Yes, I said that."

"And that it happened out of nowhere?"

"It seemed to, I didn't note a trigger anywhere in his files, but who knows?"

"Darkbooty does." Zim turned to the man, a sudden urgency in his voice. "Darkbooty can tell us."

"How can he tell us anything? He can't even think straight."

"He will." A wire slid out from Zim's PAK. "Find a magic that will help his thoughts, like you did for Red."

"Red was different!" Tunaghost protested. "His mind was all there, just fractured. Darkbooty's completely shattered!"

"I don't have time for excuses!" He pulled the curtain closed around the bed, cutting them off from view of the nurses. The wire plunged into the back of Darkbooty's skull. "Even if we get a fragment from him it will help confirm or deny."

"Confirm or deny what? What are you doing?"

"Just make magic!"

Tunaghost huffed, pulling a small notebook out of her pocket and flipping through. As Zim probed Darkbooty's skull, she began a low chant.

His bones were old and brittle with age. It wasn't hard to bore a small hole through the back of the skull. Zim sent out searches onto the human information network, the "internet" as they called it, and gathered as much information on the brain as he could skim in seconds. With that, he slid the wire along the brain tissue until it reached a certain spot. Tiny claws extended from the tip of the wire, and within seconds, Darkbooty's screaming had decreased to low moaning.

Zim retracted the wire, disgustedly grabbing the sheet at the edge of the bed to clean it. Tunaghost faltered in her chant, staring at him. Zim glanced up, and shook his head. "I merely destroyed the pain centers in his brain. He will not be needing them in a few hours, and we need answers."

Turning to Darkbooty, he took a deep breath, bracing himself, then said harshly, "Darkbooty. Can you hear me? Do you hear Zim?" Darkbooty did nothing to acknowledge Zim. The Irken frowned, calling his name again with no results. "Tunaghost, what is his name?"

The chanting dropped away suddenly. "Zim, I can't tell you that. None of us go by our real names anymore. Mothman was a rare exception, it's hard to disguise the fact that he's the son of the great Professor Membrane, but our names are sworn to secrecy between ourselves."

"Between yourselves. So you know each others' real names." He could hear her shifting. "Agent Tunaghost, he has hours to live, if that. I need to reach him somehow. His name."

She hesitated a moment longer, before replying reluctantly, "Derek Bends."

Immediately the elderly man's head turned in her direction, the moaning fading for a moment. Zim seized on the moment. "Derek Bends, do you know what is happening? Do you know what has happened to you?" He could hear Tunaghost picking up the chant again.

The ruined face moved back and forth, as if searching for sight that was no longer there. The mouth moved slowly, "Dark… so…. Dark…"

Zim shook his head. He refused to feel sorry for this lump of disgusting flesh in front of him. "Do you remember anything about what was happening? Do you know who was controlling you?"

Darkbooty's body stiffened, his gnarled hands clutching the sheets as if in mortal terror. "Fly…. Moth… fly…." Zim's antennae flicked up, his eyes narrowing. "Fly away… he's coming…"

"Who?" Zim grabbed his wrist harshly. "Who's coming for the moth?"

Booty gasped, his heart monitor spiking hard. The curtain ripped back, and Zim was pulled aside as a doctor and several nurses congregated around, pumping air into his lungs and jolting his heart. Tunaghost's voice fell silent as she watched them attempt to bring the now flat line back to a steady rhythm.

Zim's eyes were narrowed to slits. Darkbooty had at the very least another several hours to live. There had been nothing wrong with his heart. His eyes never left the corpse that the Doctor finally pronounced him to be, before they all slipped away to make arrangements for the body. He moved forward, claiming his place at Booty's bedside again, before opening his mouth.

"You just had to cut him off, didn't you?" His voice came out as a hateful hiss. The body did not move, the heart monitor still reading flat.

"Who are you talking to?" Ghost asked, worried.

Zim ignored her. "Couldn't let me hear what he was going to say, or do you just take enjoyment in me getting so close to what I need and falling short?"

The lips curled slightly upward, showing teeth stained with age and chipped with use. Tunaghost gasped, eyes darting to the heart monitor, which still read flat. Zim never took his eyes off the face.

"Who are you?" He grated. "Who are you, and what do you have to do with Mothman?"

Slowly, the hand lifted up to the face, pressing a solitary finger against the smiling lips. There came a slow, sibiliant whisper. "Shhhhhhh…. Spoilers…" before the arm dropped, limp.

Turning on his heel, Zim darted for the ICU doors.

"What's going on?" Tunaghost shouted, running after him as fast as she could.

Zim didn't answer. He didn't have time. He had to get to Dib as fast as possible. Maybe it wasn't too late.


	15. Midair Conflicts

**Note: **Couple of things. First, yeah, this story is kicking into high gear pretty fast, that's for a few reasons. First, if you look at Sempadinum, you might notice that it's mostly a setup-story with very little real action in it. So if you take Scarazial as just further development of what is essentially one huge story, it might make more sense why this is happening faster. Also there's SO MUCH to get through in this fanfiction, I haven't even covered half of the plot points I need to by the end of this one… Second, you're not gonna know about Riddick's history til next story. But it will come. Be patient. Thirdly, new poll on my profile. For fun. Anyone who's followed me and my writing habits before this last year will laugh.

…..

It was ironic, Gloria thought, that given how long she'd been off-planet in her life, she'd never actually seen space, or Earth from a distance. Now she stared at the Earth in front of her, getting larger every second, and the bits of space debris that flashed past as Red navigated the pod.

Pack lightly, he'd said. It wasn't as if she'd come to the Massive with much to begin with. She pulled her shoulder strap bag close. She'd folded into it a couple sets of clothes, a blanket, and a sketchbook. If she stayed longer on Earth, she could pick up the paints at her home and use those.

She'd slipped on the holographic patch in the bathroom and left for the escape pod bay. Nobody had questioned the new Irken in their midst, and one drone even shoved cleaning supplies at her as she entered the pod. Not long after, a short drone entered the pod, sealing the door, and sending them off. Both had removed their patches as soon as the pod entered open space.

_What can I do?_

She shut her eyes, all too aware of Red just a couple feet to her left. There were so many ways that question could be understood.

_What can I do to fix it?_

_ What can I do to set it right?_

_ What can I do to earn your forgiveness?_

She rested her forehead on her knees. It wasn't as if she didn't see the change. Given time to think and process, she could begin to accept the changes that she'd seen ever since she came to find out who Scar really was. And even then, his behavior as Scar had been unlike anything she'd ever known from Red. She could see this, and accept it—until he stepped into view. Even now she could feel her muscles had locked up, her chest held tight, and a cold, sick feeling swelled in the pit of her stomach.

He hadn't said a word to her since entering the pod, choosing to focus on the monitors and equipment. His knees were also drawn to his chest, but more by necessity than choice. His body curled over, uncomfortably hunched to fit the smaller confines of the vessel, but he still managed the controls by reaching past his knees.

She resumed staring forward as they entered Earth's atmosphere, her thoughts anywhere but on the planet they were about to return to. Briefly, she wondered if she was incapable of seeing Red as anything other than the monster who had raped her and stolen her children. To her surprise, she found the idea deeply unacceptable. Frowning, she probed that response.

He had done something unforgivable, and that for a very long time. But ever since he had reappeared as Scar, he had done everything to ensure her safety and space. The only time he had touched her had been to keep her from falling, the formal wedding kiss, and a few scattered occurrences since. Each of which she had given her consent for. It seemed, in fact, that he took great pains to maintain a distance from her unless absolutely necessary.

And his question to her hours earlier…

_What can I do?_

Nothing. There was nothing more he could do. She had to sort the question in herself until she came to some conclusion. And the conclusion, she determined, would be to move forward, if at all possible. She'd made it this far moving forward. Living in the past had nearly destroyed her. She glanced to the side. If she continued to live in the past, it might destroy him as well. And he was leading an entire race.

A race that badly needed a change in its leaders. Under constant guard in the last couple of days, she'd seen things she could hardly believe. Some were small things, like the reaction of her miniature army to the painting she was working on. At first, they'd just stared at her, shifting glances amongst themselves, until one finally stepped forward, timidly asking, "Lady Gloria, what is this?"

Not one had ever seen a painting, or someone creating a piece of art.

Others had been much larger, more glaring issues. She'd passed a table-headed service drone, and the guards in her wake had shoved him to the wall, barking at him for "Being in Lady Gloria's way!" She'd reprimanded them, telling them they weren't to treat another Irken like that. They had just stared at her in confusion.

"But he's short." One had replied, scratching his head. "And a drone at that. They should know better than to be in the way."

"Or near a ruler." The other added.

"What does his height have to do with anything?" Gloria asked in confusion. All she'd received were dumbfounded stares.

There was more at stake than her harboring the past. She had a chance, if not to change the immediate course of Irken history, to at least plant seeds of change that could grow later.

And yet it all hinged on her being able to move past what the Irken race—and Tallest Red—had done to her.

She closed her eyes again. _It isn't fair._

Her head slammed against the side of the pod, jolting her eyes open. The view out the window of the pod spun crazily. Beside her, Red cursed, wide-eyed as he stretched to reach the controls. His PAK opened up, sending out wires into the ceiling and wall beside him. "We've been hit." He said grimly. "Someone knew we were coming."

She braced herself, trying not to focus on the spinning view as he shouted, "Shielding!" Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a glowing blue film cover the view as the spinning slowed. Smoke trailed past the pod window. Something flashed at the edge of her vision, and she turned back to the window to see a glowing red bolt slam into the blue shielding. Red gasped, his hands clutching the controls. She stared at him.

"Are YOU shielding this?"

"Pods don't come equipped with weapons shielding!" He snapped, "Just basic atmospheric entry protection!"

Three more bolts slammed the shielding, each one creating a temporary gap before it closed up again. Red grimaced. "I can't hold this… I'm sorry." He reached over, crossing the distance and yanking her close. Before she could react, he reached into his armor, pulling out a small blue cube. Closing his hand around it, he crumbled it to dust.

There was a flash of blue, a tang of copper on her tongue, and suddenly they were falling from the sky—minus the pod. Red still had ahold of her, but the ground was rushing up to meet them. She clutched his arm, unable to draw breath for a scream, when their descent began to slow. She could hear thrusters sputtering just behind her, sporadically jetting on and off as they fought the pull of gravity. They were still falling too fast!

A few yards above the ground, Red twisted them around. Gloria stared at the sky, a split second of realization crossing her mind before they hit the ground with a sickening crunch. She rolled several feet, coming to a rest face-up, the air driven from her lungs. She stared upward again, gasping for oxygen, as she saw a trail of smoke far to the left in the sky, plummeting downward. Her mind pieced together a few words.

_Teleport_

_ Fall_

_ Crunch_

_ Red!_

She flailed, trying to push herself up. Pain shot up her left arm as she moved it. She managed to sit upright using her right arm, but tilted forward immediately. Instinctively, she put out both arms to catch herself, and her left arm folded underneath her. The air had not returned to her, and she could not scream.

She lay there a few moments, before reaching out a shaking right arm and dragging herself forward, propelling herself with her knees. She lifted her face, black sucking at the edges of her vision. She shook her head. She would _not_ faint now.

She could see him, close by. He lay where he had fallen, his claws grasping spastically at the sky. The closer she pulled herself, the sicker she felt. His armor was cracked and dented, and she could see his spine bent in more than one direction. Broken bones were visibly poking out from his arms, and his legs only twitched. His PAK was flashing desperately, and she could see wires reaching out, grabbing any nearby object—rocks, twigs, sticks—and sucking it back into his PAK. Was this some kind of healing method?

She didn't have time to wonder. She was just starting to be able to breathe again, and whatever had shot them down would be looking for them. Glancing around, she saw they'd landed by a shoreline cliff side. Red couldn't help her right now. She had to figure out how to get them to safety, and fast.


	16. Backstage Passes

"Medic!" Tunaghost called, sighing. "Near fatality. Again. Better patch him up, he's back in two scenes."

As Gloria struggled to pull Red farther behind the curtain, Tom walked forward, picking him up and slinging him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. He jerked his head over to the mini-hospital in the far corner. "Better get that arm looked at."  
Gloria nodded, wincing as she limped over. Tom followed with Red's broken frame.

Red tilted his head, pained, and asked, "Is she forcing me do penance for things SHE made me do?" Tom shrugged, and Red gasped, "The ribs, careful!"

"What I'D like to know," Zim growled from the corner, strapping on a pair of stilts, "Is what sort of script calls for me to grow TWO WHOLE FEET without explanation? I mean seriously, and how am I supposed to fight him," he threw an accusatory finger at the red-cloaked figure leaning against the wall, "In stilts?! You tell Zim!"

"Oh don't worry," Riddick flipped slowly through an unmarked book. "I'm sure the makeup artist will only have to apply twelve more scars when we're through anyway."

"I won't give you the chance to get that many shots." Zim fumed. "I'll beat you so badly, you'll have to get your understudy to do the next scene."

"I killed all my understudies." Riddick flicked an antennae. "Don't you read the script? I'm a method actor. If it calls for a killer Irken, well, I have to practice somewhere."

"Not funny Riddick." Zim muttered, staggering to his feet.

"Dib, for the tenth time, I know it was an accident." Mikko patted Dib's shoulder as they walked past. "I'm fine though, really. They've got a great medical center over there."

"Yeah, for all the injuries this production causes, they'd better." Dib bit his lip.

"If nothing else, you got to practice your improv skills." She smiled. "They're getting better."

"Yeah, but I don't think Zim was acting when he burst in ready to tear my head off." Dib glanced at Zim out of the corner of his eye. "It's a wonder he slipped back into the script at all…"

"This is stupid." A small black puddle on the floor groused. "Can we just quit or something? Go somewhere else to a slightly more NORMAL production?"

Dib paled, raising a finger to his lips. "You know what happened LAST time we tried to leave, Gaz, c'mon."

The edge of the shadow peeled back, revealing Gaz's face under a black cloth. She frowned. "Yeah, we got sent through some alternate crazy-ville where everything was all smiles and singing flowers and pregnant aliens. So? We survived."

"Do you really want to provoke her to do worse?" Dib whispered, eyes darting around.

Gaz sighed, dropping the cloth back over herself. "Guess not. Just keep your girlfriend's crazy sister away from me. I'm nobody's makeup and hair practice."

Suddenly a sign dropped down behind the curtains. Riddick walked over, lifting the sign to the light. "Out to lunch. Back next month." He turned his head slightly. "Seems you get a small reprieve from losing, Zim."

"Why you!" Zim flailed forward, his stilts hitting the ground with a little peg-peg-peg-peg sound. "Get over here and we'll see who loses!"

"That's a long lunch break." Della put her hands on her hips. "What are we supposed to do until next month?"

"Recover!" Red gasped from a medical bed. "Recovery would be nice."

"Agreed… I need a vacation too." Gloria winced as her arm was set and splinted.

"What do you have to complain about?" Membrane flailed his arms. "I've been back here with NOTHING to do for a story and a half! It gets really boring after awhile!"

"Not true," DarkBooty grinned. "All your boredom produced some killer special effects, how'd you come up with the inverted melting facemask?"

"Oh, well," Membrane straightened proudly. "I'd be more than happy to discuss the finer aspects of that particular scientific breakthrough with you and anyone else who would care to—" Within seconds, the backstage was deserted, save for Professor Membrane, DarkBooty, and Tallest Red. Even Gloria had managed to slip away. "Ah. I see how it is. Well then, Tallest Red, how about you, me, and Darkbooty talk about the amazing breakthroughs in our special effects?"

Red gaped. "She IS putting me through some kind of penance!"

…..

**Note: **So what does this mean? This means I'm taking a break til next month. I've been putting out chapters pretty steadily, but circumstances have come up and I need to take a short break. Don't worry, I'll be back. Far too much to do. Asks will still continue as normal on the Askresilientzim . I know I have 4 or 5 stacked up, and I will get to them in the next couple of days, promise. Oh, and once the story starts up again, this chapter never happened… it's just another fun crazy chapter from the depths of my… insanity? Cookies to whoever can name the fic Gaz was talking about in which they were punished…


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